Bending The Rules
by Happys Hitwoman
Summary: The players haven't changed, but the game slightly has. Short follow-up to Grand Illusion (Tig/Daisy)
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note:** Okay, so I promised a Tig/Daisy one shot, but this may be multi (around 10 maybe?). Unfortunately, if you're not familiar with the Redemption saga, you may be lost in this story so I apologize to any new readers.

Of course, the rest of the gang is present. Takes place a month and a half after Grand Illusion's epilogue (so yes, we'll have Hap/Amanda/baby time). Family, drama, intrigue, danger romance, a new face or two and some humor.

This came together quite quickly while up to my eyeballs with work and business, but I needed to indulge my muse(s).

Enjoy & review.

**ETA 3/4/13: Story was formerly titled 'Persuasion', but as I thought about the long term goal, this new title seem to fit better**

**August 15, 2013**

The son of the mother charter's Sergeant-At-Arms was going to have one heck of a coming out party.

As not to be too out of control, the guest list was limited to just the officers from Sutter Creek, Red Bluff, Portland, Tacoma, Reno and Tucson in addition to club family, town reps and business associates filtering in and out.

Amanda made it very firm to Gemma –any setting up, cooking, serving or cleaning was to be delegated to hangarounds, prospects and croweaters. The day would belong to William Clarence Lowman and she wanted his 'family' to relax and enjoy him and each other.

And that family also included Daisy McKay.

"It's not an 'official' baptism, but I want you to be his 'unofficial' god-mother."

Fashionably attired as usual on a scorchingly dry ninety-five degree day, the twinge of blush which colored Daisy's face was almost the same hue as her Banana Republic sleeveless shirt-dress. It owed nothing to the heat or the cooing month and a half old infant she carefully held in her arms, but to pure astonishment over her best friend's request. "What? Really?" She glanced down at baby Will as if to get his take on it, then back up at Amanda. "You do?"

"I do."

"But…..but what about the other…you know….old ladies?"

Amanda popped a shortbread cookie in her mouth followed by a sip of coffee. She paused a moment to admire her baby son from where she sat next to Daisy at her kitchen table, reaching out to stroke his tender cheek. "What about them?"

"I just thought you'd ask one of them. I mean, Lyla's your business partner. You're god-mother to Tara's kid. Eve was your tenant."

"I don't 'owe' them, Daisy. Plus, I don't want to feel like I have to choose 'between' any of them. So, I'm going outside the 'family'…..although….."

Her unfinished sentence caused Daisy's eyes to snap up. "What do you mean?"

Reaching for another Lorna Doone, Amanda ignored Daisy's question as she studied the cookie in thought. "Eh, I only have seven more pounds of baby weight to shuck off," she reasoned before biting into it, " this won't hurt."

"Amanda?"

"Hmm?" through a long sip of coffee.

"What did you mean by…'although'?"

Amanda gave Daisy a '_really?'_ look. "Daisy, you've done a good job playing keep-away with me, but I didn't just fall off a turnip truck. I know."

"About?"

"You and Tig."

Mindless of the wrinkles or drool on the silk fabric of her dress, Daisy clutched Will to her shoulder so she wouldn't drop him from that admission. "Amanda….how….?"

"So, it's true?" her friend asked with a wink.

Daisy lowered her eyes before a faint smile caught her. She admitted to herself it was the scent of a newborn head, but more than five months of playing semi-house with Tig, she knew what truly made her smile. "Yes. It's true. But Amanda, no one's supposed to know."

"Why?"

"Those are the rules."

"What rules?"

"Don't ask." Daisy was not about to repeat Tig's riot act he laid out for her when the two of them began their clandestine relationship.

"And you're…..okay with those _rules?"_

Moving the baby to the crook of her arm, Daisy was careful not to pause too long. "I have been."

Amanda got up to pop another K-Cup in her prized Keurig. "Past tense, doll." The sound of her own breath sucking in caught Daisy by surprise, and the smirk on Amanda's face told her she'd been caught. "Something wrong?"

"Tig calls me that."

"I know."

"Amanda….please,…."

"Hey," Amanda gently said. "I'm not judging you." She walked over, sat back down then reached out to smooth a piece of dark hair on Will's head. "Matter of fact, I'm the_ last_ person to judge, considering who his father is."

"Yeah, but Hap didn't keep you hidden."

"We weren't _that _open in the beginning," Amanda explained. "At least, not until he was absolutely certain he wanted another old lady."

Daisy looked astonished. "Another?"

Amanda bit her lip, then reconsidered. "Daisy, I'm going to tell you something only two other people know. It's something I expect you to take to your grave."

Now Daisy went from astonished to creeped out. "What?"

"How Hap and I _really_ met."

She glanced at her half-empty cup. "Will I need more tea for this?"

"You'll need coffee with a shot of Sambuca for this."

She kept it short and sweet, but Amanda gave Daisy just enough of an account of that night in the cemetery almost two November's ago. By the time she was done, it was a miracle Daisy hadn't dropped the baby. "Oh…..my….God." It was all she could string together.

"Remember what I said," Amanda warned.

"I understand. To the grave."

"Our connection is very deep, Daisy," Amanda told her. "It's different with us than what you and Tig had."

"But you were also an outsider – like me."

Again, Amanda paused. "Not exactly," she drawled out before sighing. "I guess today's a day for spilling secrets." Tenderly, Amanda caressed her son's head. "There's a reason his middle name is 'Clarence'."

"Good, because I was wondering who this mysterious relative is you derived it from."

Amanda took a deep breath in and out. "It's Clay's full name."

Daisy's hazel eyes widened then narrowed in thought. "Clay? You mean _that woman's_ husband?" She still wasn't too keen on Gemma even though Tig said how much Gemma praised her performance in the delivery room the day Will was born.

"He's not just Gemma's husband – he's….my real father."

Now Daisy held out her arms with the baby in it. "Here - take him before I_ really_ drop him this time."

Amanda cradled her son who was starting to fuss. Searching for a pacifier in an Ed Hardy diaper bag covered in appropo skulls, she plunked it in Will's mouth before glancing up. "Ready for _this_ story?"

"I think I'm ready for wine."

"Corner wine rack on the counter – glasses above."

One o'clock on a Saturday afternoon was a bit early for alcohol, but Daisy figured it was five p.m somewhere in the world. Pouring a healthy glass of sweet burgundy, she sat back down. "Ready."

Another unbelievable story was punctuated at the end with an empty wine glass. "I….I don't know what to say. That…..witch! I mean, I know she's your mother."

"Was my mother," Amanda corrected. "We…have no contact."

Some stories are better left untold.

"Seems we got away from the real issue here," Amanda changed subjects. "How long have you and Tig been going on like this?"

"Since after Evan died….um….was killed…um…murdered." She palmed her forehead. "I still can't say it."

"That's more than five months ago."

"I know. I can add."

"Do your parents know you're banging a biker?"

The invisible rod stiffened Daisy's spine. "Yeah, right. Then I'd really be disowned. I think they'd prefer me doing those movies instead."

Amanda laughed then got serious. "Do you want more?"

"I'm…..not sure. I mean, when we're together it's…" her cheeks matched her dress again, " but I still like my 'alone' time. It kind of…fits, right now. Know what I mean."

Amanda smiled wide. "I know exactly what you mean. I used that word to describe Hap and I a lot. In the beginning I couldn't explain what we were or where we stood in each other's life. All I knew was that we…..fit. As long as you're okay with how it's still progressing."

"Well," Daisy coyly began, her fingers grazing her neck. "It has progessed – a little." Finger tips found the chain which never left her neck since Tig put it around it early the previous month. Pulling it out from where it was tucked inside her dress, she held it up. "He gave me this."

Amanda leaned in. "What is it?"

"A chain he always wore. The medallion on the end has the Marine's symbol and on the back is his dog tag information."

Now it was Amanda's turn to look astonished. "Really? He gave it to you? When?"

Daisy eyed the baby. "Day he was born. Tig came over that night. I hadn't seen him in almost two weeks because they were in Indian Hills. He took it off and told me he wanted me to have it. Said it belonged to him and now it belongs to me."

Amanda smiled then leaned down to kiss her son's head. "Hmm."

"So…..this is some kind of progression I think."

"It's beyond that, Daisy. It isn't ink, but it's something which symbolized his past. Something he always wore. It belonged to him. It now belongs to you. Don't you get it?"

"We're going steady?"

"You _belong_ to him."

That made Daisy reach for the wine bottle and pour. "But…..his rules."

Amanda playfully cupped Will's ears. "Fuck his rules, Daisy. Not every man can say what they feel. Trust me, I'm married to one who rations his words as if it were the last water bottle in the desert. I don't know much about Tig personally, but he always seemed…..distant. Cautious. Maybe even a bit afraid."

"He's got an ex-wife and two daughters," Daisy said. "Maybe he doesn't want to make another mistake."

"Maybe. But if he thinks enough of you to give you something precious to him, there's gonna be a time when he's gonna have to make it public. You can't just go on pretending to avoid each other at club functions and you can't always stick by my side so no one makes a move on you. Especially next Sunday." Standing up, Amanda placed a sleeping Will in his baby seat. "You're not going to be there to play maid nor can he expect you to be glued to an old lady's side."

"But those are his rules for club events."

"This isn't just a club event – it's my son's dedication day. I want my family – including you – to be free to relax and enjoy the day and not serving appetizers, making coffee or washing utensils. Then again….."Amanda thought, "there's gonna be guys from other charters – eighteen of them. If you're alone, they'll think you're up for grabs and there's nothing Tig can do about it unless he steps in. And I don't want some alpha-male fight breaking out – not that day."

Daisy was beside herself. She always knew what to do. Always felt in control – even with her situation with Tig. She knew exactly where she stood and didn't question more or less. But at almost thirty four years old, she began to wonder if she was just expected to go on spending the nights at his place or him sneaking over to hers on the way back from somewhere or mid-afternoon delights on the farm with the office door locked and the blinds pulled. She was positive she was more than just a booty call – the chain around her neck confirmed it. Plus, it was what she originally agreed to. But the more she talked with Amanda, the more she realized that, at some point, she and Tig were going to have to come out of their hush-hush closets.

Speaking of coming out….

"I know! What about Rafe!"

"What about him?" Amanda asked.

When she was around eight months pregnant, Amanda had prepared for the time she'd take off from the store to spend with her newborn son and the summer lull was the perfect time to organize the store as well as the website to optimize selling. Her answer – a freelance merchandiser named Raphael Cortez who, at twenty nine, had strategic marketing experience, a knack for clever floor displays and how to position what sells from what doesn't. He was also well-groomed, well-manicured and well-dressed.

And gayer than Liberace's fur coat.

"Did you invite him?"

"I thought about it. After all, the club's inviting their….business associates. But then I thought being surrounded by all those men in leather might send him into over-swoon."

"Well…." Daisy began, "if you invite him, we can go together. He told me Carlo's going to be in Sacramento next weekend for business so he'll be alone with nowhere to dress up and go to. We'll look like we're 'together' so no one will think I'm _up for grabs_."

Amanda smirked over how well Rafe and Daisy took too each other and can only imagine their texts and conversations comparing the contents of each other's wardrobe. Both women's ears perked at the sound of pipes pulling into the driveway before Amanda pulled Daisy back. "I'm sure Hap's alone. So…..Rafe's boyfriend won't mind him going on a 'straight-date'?"

Daisy gave her friend a 'ha-ha' look. "So, you'll invite him?"

"Invite who?"

Coming through the back door, Hap wasted no time inviting himself into the conversation as his eyes fixed on the baby sound asleep in his chair. With an acknowledging nod to Daisy and a kiss to his wife, he went right over to his son. "Don't jostle him, he just went to sleep."

"I'm not gonna shake 'im, A," he gruffly replied. "So, you invitin' more people to this thing next week? Already got close to fifty."

"And we may be plus one more," she said. "I'm gonna ask Rafe."

Hap rolled his eyes away from his sleeping son to his wife. "You kiddin'?"

"What, I can't invite my own business associates to my own son's dedication?"

He looked cross between being annoyed and wanting to please his wife. "Tell me he ain't bringin'a…..friend."

"Actually, we're going together," Daisy bravely chimed in.

A little fuss turned to a big fuss which turned into a cry to which Hap wasted no time scooping Will into his arms. Unbelievable, Daisy thought to herself, how these hard men can be transformed by a human being no longer than their forearm. Holding his son against his chest, he leered at Daisy. "Gonna be your wing-man….woman….whatever?"

Amanda looked shocked. "You _know?"_

"You _know_?" Daisy repeated.

"'bout you and Tig?" He shrugged. "What ain't to know?"

"Did he say anything to you?" Daisy asked.

Hap made a face. "I ain't gettin' in the middle of chick talk," he said, walking out of the kitchen with the baby against his shoulder. "Gonna put him in the crib."

The two women stared at each other until Amanda spoke up. "He didn't fall off the turnip truck either."

"So, if everyone supposedly 'knows', then what's Tig's problem?" Daisy asked.

"I don't know," Amanda answered. "Or….maybe because you've been so cooperative at going along with his 'rules' that you're enabling him to milk it."

Daisy shook her head. "What do I do?"

"Do you want more from him?"

Daisy thought long and hard about how much more. He already told her flat out that he wasn't doing the wife and kids thing. But there were ways to meet in the middle. "A little more."

"Then, my dear" Amanda said, picking up her cell to call Rafe, "I suggest you come up with some of your own rules and figure a way to get it out of him."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for the reviews/faves/follows and all around support. I originally intended for this to end with the party on Sunday, but the plot has grown in my head to where it's just going to be another scene which further explores the growth between Tig & Daisy as well as give me a chance to indulge my other characters. Thanks to that lame-ass Discovery Channel reality show about (ahem) bikers, the base of the plot has been formed and this will be a bit longer than usual. I just have to do something more with these two, but being it IS Tig I have to be careful and not draw him OOC.**

**This was quick - little advancement and a taste of what's to come**

**Enjoy & review!**

~/~

**Chapter 2**

Times changed and so had the players. But the rules of the club were carved in stone since its inception. Betray those and you may as well just take your own life because it's good as gone anyway. But change didn't erase memories and sometimes those pulled Tig towards holding onto a bit of the way things used to be. Before legitimate business was first and forefront rather than outlaw activities commanding a life meant to live on the edge. Before nights found him home well before ten p.m rather than tearing up blacktop until sunrise. Before trading in a dorm room best suited for a guy half his age for a two-bedroom rental simply furnished with bare necessities. Before a remote and an old German Shepard became his night-time couch partner.

And a chocolate-cherry haired, long-legged stiff-ass became his overnight bed partner.

He couldn't complain – especially about the latter. After all, their arrangement was her idea. He just supplied the rules to the game. And he had to give little Miss Daisy McKay credit – she played it like a champ, so much so that he felt compelled last month to give her his Marine tags. It wasn't a tramp stamp emblazoned with his name nor was it carte blanche to claim herself a title. It was more his way of giving a bit extra. Letting her know exactly where she stood on the food chain – more than a crow eater, but not an official old lady. Heck, he never even referred to her as 'his girl' nor made what they had public. No matter what changed in the club, even though guys morphed into family men as soon as they crossed the threshold of their private homes, he couldn't quite get on board with that program. The part of him which still clung to his ways of the past kept a hold on his present – even as he entered the back door of the man who most represented it.

"Clay? Ya here?"

"Livin' room."

Through the kitchen Tig walked until he came upon a sight which found him much needed levity. The former mother-charter president and SAMCRO member was sitting on the couch, Sasha weaseled practically onto his lap and a very jealous looking Tank laying on the floor with his eyes on both of them. The six year old boxer barely acknowledged Tig as if afraid he'd miss Clay giving Sasha an extra pet or two. The levity made him chuckle at his inherited dog's way of getting what she wanted. Typical bitch.

"Where'd he come from?" he motioned to Tank.

"Amanda stopped by after Toby dropped her off," Clay replied, pointing to Sasha whose eyes were now watching Tank watch her. "Had him and the baby with her. Took the baby and left the dog. Or rather, he wouldn't go. Not once he saw this little affection whore – and I ain't talkin' about love at first sight."

"Another canine movin' in on his territory," Tig mused, bending down to rub the boxer's head. "You jealous of my girl, big guy?"

At the sound of Tig's voice, Sasha gingerly hopped off the couch and over to him, but Tank let out a low growl of warning.

"Knock it off," Clay said and Tank got up and went over to the two, thick folded blankets against the wall – a white one belonging to Sasha, the black one being Tank's. The boxer circled both blankets then eyed Sasha who bravely went over – just as Tank plopped his eighty pound body in the middle of the white blanket while stretching his paw out over the black one. Doggie translation: I own the show here, bitch.

"Wait," Clay said amused. "They've done this dance before."

The brave, old shepard backed away and went to curl up on the rug before Tank removed his paw from his own blanket. After a few moments, Sasha returned and rested her body in the middle of Tank's blanket.

"Markin' his territory," Tig said.

"Showin' who's boss," Clay countered. "Typical male."

"This what you do all day?"

Clay shrugged then leaned forward to grab his sweating bottle of beer. "Relax, watch television and dog-sit?" He took a swig then smiled. "Thrill of my day. Where you comin' from?"

"Crow's Nest," he said getting up to sit in the recliner. "Place is lookin' good. Diesel's runs it like a well-oiled engine, man. Should be gettin' our first cut end of this month. These hot days are pullin' in a lot of guys lookin' for cold beers and the big-titted waitresses servin' 'em." His head leaned back, feeling more relaxed than he ever did in the company of the man he had pledged his own body to protect as sergeant before his own bad judgement and Jax's need for change caused him to turn over the patch.

"What's really on your mind, brother?" Clay may have lost the ability to ride, but not his astuteness. "I'm guessin' this ain't a social call."

Tig kept a blank face. "Just passin' by on my way back and thought I'd stop in and see ya."

Clay held out his arms. "Here I am. Retirement-party city."

"See ya still got the bike in the driveway."

Slowly opening and closing his right hand, Clay fought back the need to grit his teeth. "Once in a while Gemma shoots me up with an extra vial of juice. Numbs it to where I can barely feel the throttle, but I can grip just long enough to go around the block. Unless my hand falls off that bike ain't goin' nowhere."

"Where is Gem?"

"Office. Someone's gotta work to keep us in the lap of luxury – not to mention we're payin' for this shindig Sunday. It'll be good to see the other charters." He smirked at Tig. "Amanda said she asked her little friend to be Will's 'god-mother'."

The words _'she didn't tell me that'_ almost fell out of Tig's mouth, but he kept an unaffected look about him. "Yeah? Yippee for her."

Clay chuckled low and shook his head. "Brother, what're you doin?"

"Sittin' here listenin' to an old man babble."

"I meant with the stiff ass?"

He tipped his head back and rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ. First Gemma, now you?"

"Hey, you wanna continue playin' kissy-face indoors then actin' like you don't even know each other in public, that's your business. But like I said," he pointed to Sasha who was now asleep and halfway off the black blanket and onto the white one, pushing Tank back a bit, "bitches have a way of gettin' what they want. Think she's gonna wanna be your late night piece of ass the rest of her life?"

"She ain't….." _Shit!_ He couldn't catch himself in time. "Really? Do we have to discuss this?"

Rubbing his hand, Clay shook his head. "All's I'm sayin' is that if you ever get to this point," motioning around the living room to punctuate his current circumstances," you don't wanna be alone."

"Thanks, dad," Tig jested. "Am I gettin' the birds and bees talk next?"

"How 'bout gettin' your ass outta here and leave me to my thoughts of former glory?"

Pushing himself out of the chair, Tig motioned to Sasha. "Toby'll be by with the van around four to take her back to my place."

"Can't get rid of that loyal, little shit," Clay said.

"Jax wants to prospect 'im. Gonna vote next month after he turns nineteen on the eleventh."

Clay sighed. "Nineteen. Seems like a century ago."

"For you, maybe."

"You ain't that far behind, Tigger. Remember what I said."

"Too bad," he called out, heading for the door. "Already forgotten."

**~A~**

Pushing a grocery cart while texting your gay friend about outfits was dangerous. Daisy may as well have been behind the wheel of a car. **'What are you going to wear'?** She texted Rafe with perfect punctuation. She hated that middle-school, abbreviated text speak.

_'**Thinking a beige ensemble. Gonna be hot Sunday. You?"**_

'**I have a deep teal dress. Ruched on the side. Black patent belt and matching pumps.' **She pictured it in her mind as she texted it.

_'**No, no, no! Too dark. Cool colors, sweetie. Go for that lemon chiffon number you were wearing when we first met.**'_

She'd forgotten about that. She had seen the dress on the WhiteHouseBlackMarket website in the spring and fell absolutely in love. She had it on when she went to pay Amanda a visit at her store in late May while she was in the middle of interviewing a very stylishly dressed young man with light, cocoa skin, dark hair gelled to piece-y perfection and attired in a pastel outfit which led her to believe he wasn't on the straight and narrow. And when Amanda introduced the two of them, he stood up, took Daisy's hand and twirled her as if on the dance floor then gushed,_"Sweetie, you are working that dress so hard it's gonna demand overtime," _it pretty much confirmed it. Rafe not only left with the job but with Daisy's cell number which seriously challenged her phone bill's text plan.

'**Yes! Forgot that. Which shoes? White slingbacks?'**

Seriously it was like having another girlfriend. She was too giddy to remember her mental grocery list or the reason she was doing it.

_'_**_For real? If you wear white shoes I won't be seen with you._'**

And just like that Rafe reverted to the mentality of another man who didn't want to be seen in public with her. The one she was choosing boneless chicken breasts, cooking sherry, light cream, Arborio rice, pre-sliced cheesecake and a can of tart cherries for. **'I don't have anything else to go with lemon'** Even she couldn't believe with her extensive wardrobe that she didn't have a pair of shoes to go with a lemon-colored dress.

_'**Well, you know what that means? Shopping! I'll come with. I'm thinking oyster-toned t-straps with a hint of gold.'**_

Really, sometimes Rafe just laid the gayness on a little too thick.

'**I can scoot out of work at four on Tuesday. Head into Lodi'**

_'**Lodi? Home of Wal-Mart and Target? I think not. There's a fab little boutique over in Valley Springs. Meet me there at five'**_

'**It's a date'**

Now that her wardrobe crisis for next Sunday was out of the way, Daisy concentrated on the task at hand. Looking at what she already placed in the cart, she pulled her Dayplanner out of her tote, uncapped her long-neglected fountain pen and made a manual list to be sure she didn't forget anything. Even as she did, she thought about her conversation with Amanda earlier that afternoon. What_ did_ she want from Tig that he already stated he _didn't_ want? Would she ever want a ring, a home and a child? Could she picture him cuddling a baby like Happy? Heck, she couldn't even picture Happy cuddling a baby while watching him actually do it. Was she willing to stick it out, be happy with what she has – which was what she agreed to back in March and hope he'll eventually come out of his own closet – and bring her with him?

Or was Amanda right – that Daisy had been enabling Tig and his 'rules' long enough and it was time to make an adjustment. She had followed and respected every one of those rules and as now thinking she may be seen as some sort of doormat or a dog who obeyed its master. But she had known enough about these men – this man in particular – to know you can't play the kind of games women do with civilian men. Tig laid out the harsh reality of his life and what to expect if she ever screwed around behind his back – even though he answered to her for nothing. But as rough and completely opposite as Tig was to her, their routine gave her a feeling of comfort, of control. There wasn't too much room for spontaneity and for someone who jotted her daily schedule in a Dayplanner and laid out a week's worth of outfits in her head, she was really fine with it.

Amanda was right - the chain around her neck was a step forward. A silent symbol that Tig held her in higher regard than he possibly did any other woman to have been given something so personal. But after five months of playing faithfully by his rules, Daisy felt it was time to grow a pair under her designer dress and make a few of her own. But it had to be done slowly and subtly.

Sex was one thing. Food was another.

Confident she had everything she needed, she checked out, packed everything in the trunk of her pale blue Jag then slid into the driver's side. Starting it up, she blasted the air conditioning just enough to cool her off before lowering it to make a phone call. She never called him just to say 'hi' or to 'check in', although he did from time to time with her. That was one of the rules. She wasn't breaking it for she had a reason for the call. It was late Saturday afternoon and hoped she wouldn't be cooking all this for herself.

"_Yeah?"_

"Tig? It's me."

"_I know. What's up?"_

He didn't sound too annoyed with both concerned and pleased her. "You planning on being home at a decent hour tonight?" Yep, she just went there and inquired as to his whereabouts, but in a non-bossy way. Plus now that he had a dog on a full time basis, she already knew he wouldn't be home too late. Still, she needed him to think the ball was in his court and not assume.

"_Maybe. Not sure. Why?"_

"Got carried away at the grocery store. How about I make us dinner tonight?" She put the question to him, but kept a confident tone.

"_Yeah. Why not. Ain't got nothin' in the fridge anyway."_

Of course he didn't. If it wasn't for Toby and Erin doing his grocery shopping from time to time he'd be living on beer and stick butter.

"I'll be by around six. I'll use the spare key you gave me if you aren't home." Another small progression after he gave her the chain, though with strict instructions not to drop by unannounced. Yet another rule

"_The kid's brinin' the dog back around four. Let 'er out when you get there and make sure she's got water."_

"No problem. See you later." She hung up before he could say anything like _'maybe'_ or any other snarky comment. Her first rule – end unscheduled phone calls on her terms.

Daisy hoped she wasn't digging herself a hole.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Around 8pm Same Night**

A sleeping baby with a full tummy in his cradle and a husband and dog with the same on the couch, Amanda snuck into the bathroom with an armful of clothes. By the time she tried on the last outfit, she wanted to scream. Yeah, she looked pretty good for pushing out an almost eight pound human being less than two months ago, but the extra seven pounds which decided to hang around her waist instead of her boobs made her wish she hadn't had those extra shortbread cookies this afternoon.

"Dammit!" she cursed, before exiting the bathroom before tip-toeing quietly into the bedroom. At night, Will slept in a spindled, wooden cradle painted glossy black with white and bright blue detailing – SAMCRO colors – rather than his crib. "_Not until he's at least three months_," she told Hap. By then she'd train herself to hear him cry through the walls, but at only six weeks, she was more intent on hearing him breathe.

With a loving look to that sweet face destined to take on more of his father's features, she hastily put all the clothes back on hangers then shoved them in the closet. Flinging off her light, jersey shift, she reached for a deep green wrap dress in the closet and contemplated before the knob on the door turned.

"What'cha doin', A…..?"

"Don't!" She lunged for the door and slammed it as quietly as she could in her husband's face.

"Amanda? What the hell?"

"I'm not dressed."

"Your point?"

"I'm not dressed – that's the point," she whispered with annoyance.

"Open the damn door, A."

She huffed. "Really? You're gonna go all alpha on me now. I need some privacy, Hap."

She heard him lean against the door. "Fine. I'll wait."

Stubborn, stupid, clueless man.

Tossing the shift back on, she slowly opened the door as not to have him fall on top of her. "Do you want something?"

Before he could speak, Tank barged in and over towards the cradle where he wedged his eighty pound body under it perfectly. "Just talked to ma. She and my aunt won't be comin' to this thing at the clubhouse next Sunday. Wants to see the baby tomorrow."

"Oh….yeah, okay. Sure."

"What're you doin' in here?"

"Trying to find something to wear for next Sunday. Prince William sleeping over there left me with a few extra pounds. All my clothes pinch a bit." She huffed with resolution. "That's it – from now until Sunday no carbs, no sweets, no junk….."

"Don't overdo it."

"I won't."

His eyes inspected her thoroughly which didn't do wonders for her self-consciousness. "Don't know why you're freakin'. You look fine to me."

Bless his clueless, black heart.

"That's because it's _here_," she rested her hands on her waist "and unfortunately, not my boobs which still haven't gone down even though I'm not breast-feeding."

He reached for them. "No complaints from me."

Of course not.

"Don't, please," she shied away.

"Amanda," he warned. "Don't go overboard with this shit. And you're my wife so if I wanna touch you I damn will."

She huffed again - hard, wishing he'd just go away and let her stew in her vanity. But men like him just don't _go away. _"Whatever," she waived him off. "Just….not here," again, she motioned to her waist.

He shrugged, thankfully realizing she was a woman who took these issues seriously, then reached for the hem of her shift. "Ain't where I wanna go anyway," he said with a gruff leer as his hand creeped upwards.

She playfully slapped it away. "Really, Hap? Here? Will's sleeping."

"Then be quiet," he said, reaching for her again.

She smirked when his teeth found her neck. "When have you known me to be quiet?"

"True."

"And the dog's gonna howl."

Taking her hand, he led out of the room and quietly closed the door. "Kitchen?"

Really – for such an astute man he just didn't get the hint. "I'm…..not tonight."

First he frowned, then his eyes lightened a bit. "C'mon, A," he said, going back to the living room. "Gator Boys is about to start."

She'd rather have sex instead.

**~A~**

While the chicken piccatta simmered in a buttery sherry sauce, Daisy gently stirred the risotto– all while rocking a floral halter top, distressed,denim shorts with tan three-inch, criss-cross heels adorning below. What she lacked in tits, she more than made up for in legs and didn't feel one bit manipulative spotlighting her best asset.

But no matter how fierce – as Rafe put it – her legs looked, or how delicious dinner tasted, or how creamy and sweet the cheesecake was or even how down-n-dirty the sex may be later, Daisy had to set some personal boundaries. After deciding that what she truly wanted from Tig after playing by his rules for five months was to be acknowledged – especially since just about everyone knew what was going on between them. She wasn't pressing for a diamond and a baby, so she felt this wasn't too much to ask. As Amanda said, the medallion around her neck proved he already thought more of her than he verbally let on so she didn't think it too much for Tig to step up and deliver.

However, the boundary she set for herself was clear. If for some reason Tig didn't want to deliver, she had to stick firm to the decision she made. No matter what she agreed to five months ago, it never occurred that their behind-the-scenes relationship was enabling him while making her look like a doormat. The man demanded respect – he now needed to return the favor.

Dinner was warming while two sets of plates and utensils awaited on the counter to be filled. Pouring herself a glass of Chablis, Daisy walked around the little center island to where Sasha had circled her body in the center of a navy and cream braided rug. Large, brown eyes stared up at her as if still sizing up the other female in her master's life. Bending down, Daisy rubbed the dog's head as she let out a playful growl. "Yeah, I know you just tolerate me," she told the dog, as the long-awaited sound of a motorcycle finally pulled up. "Who knows Sasha," she said, straightening up. "Maybe after tonight you won't have to worry anymore."

**~A~**

When you're going on your third Saturday night in row where you're home well before some high school kids are getting ready to go out, you know that times have truly changed. And in a last-ditch effort to cling to memories of nights where the party didn't start until two a.m., Tig hung around the practically barren clubhouse nursing a beer and looking like the dejected last kid waiting to get chosen for dodge-ball.

Anyone with a wife and/or child had long since departed, Chibs accompanied Bobby to Tahoe for a weekend gig and after squeezing a game of pool out of Maniac, he too selected a sweetbutt he'd been favoring since patching in Redwood and took her back to his bachelor pad – leaving Tig with the prospects, a few hang-arounds and two leftover chicks with hopeful looks.

"_All's I'm sayin' is that if you ever get to this point, you don't wanna be alone."_

Damn Clay and his newfound outlook even as Tig realized the little stiff-ass had been at his place since six cooking up a storm. Yeah, he told her he may be home at a decent hour, but his stubbornness kept him lingering till the eleventh hour. That and Clay's other biting words:

"…_bitches have a way of gettin' what they want."_

A growling stomach overtook his pride as Tig looked at the clock – a little after 8pm. Polishing off the rest of his beer, he finally gave in and left.

Less than twenty minutes later, the package store's dimmed neon sign came into view. The club had taken his suggestion, voted on it and bought out the deceased owner's son last month. It was the fastest return on investment as it became the main booze supplier to other charters from Oregon to Nevada. With it closed up from what was probably a profitable Saturday night, Tig looked past it towards his home of the last nine months – and the pale-blue Jag sitting in its driveway. The sight made him tense – even moreso than ever. It wasn't the first time Daisy let herself in and waited for him to get home, but tonight seemed…..different.

"…_bitches have a way of gettin' what they want."_

Not from him, he answered the words in his mind. He didn't care that his brothers were drenched in domestic bliss and legitimate cash. Tig Trager still went at his own pace.

Inside, the aromas of dinner made the continuous growling in his gut hurt, even as the setting before him sent a weird feeling through him. Dog curled up on the rug, dinner in the oven and a woman standing there with hair as long as those damn, fucking stems of hers greeted him. "Hi."

"Hey," he replied, bending down to give Sasha an affectionate rub. "She taken care of?"

"She's fine."

As she began to plate dinner, he went to the fridge – pulling a beer out of a fresh six pack sitting next to a healthy cheesecake with juicy, ripe cherries piled on top.

"Island or coffee table?"

He closed the fridge and cracked his beer open. "What?"

"Where do you want your dinner?"

"Oh….yeah. Coffee table." The annoyance in his voice had to be evident. He knew what she meant. He just didn't feel like cooperating. The dinner, the dog, the neat house and a damn woman whose legs he wanted to twist behind her head while on her back suddenly got him agitated. Why he had no idea. The food smelled great, she smelled even better, the television volume was low and soothing and there was a general sense of calm which he should've found comforting. Instead, his skin suddenly itched. This was all too….too…domesticated.

"…_bitches have a way of gettin' what they want."_

_What's she up to_? he thought to himself as he watched her. Why the sudden urge to cook him dinner on a Saturday night, take care of his dog and dress in a pair of shorts and heels that was going to get her slammed good later? Did she want something? Did she want something _from him_?

"_Think she's gonna wanna be your late night piece of ass the rest of her life?"_

"C'mon, doll, I'm hungry," he gruffly said.

"Thought you'd be home earlier," she matter-of-factly said, handing him his plate.

"Never said _when_," he shot back.

She gave him that look which did him in – sometimes. She'd been good about the rules and respecting his space, but other than those legs and tight little ass of hers, those hazel eyes which contrasted beautifully against her thick mass of chocolate-cherry hair had this unintentional hypnotic power that made him give in on occasion. Letting her stay in his bed till morning, giving her a key to his house, welcoming mid-day phone calls to ask when she'd be seeing him and, of course, his Marine medallion. Through the pretty, feminine material of her halter top he could see the heavy chain and imagine the circular, metal disc nestled between those perky, little tits covered only by that wispy fabric. Damn the little, wily bitch – handing him a plate of delicious food while his mouth twitched to suck those nipples till he drew blood. What's she doing? What's she up to? Or…..did his afternoon visit with Clay make him paranoid?

"_Think she's gonna wanna be your late night piece of ass the rest of her life?"_

"…_bitches have a way of gettin' what they want."_

"A'ight," he said, placing the plate down. "What's up?"

"Excuse me?" she politely said as she made her own plate.

He waved his hand over the counter. "This. Dinner, beer, cheesecake….you, dressed like…this?"

She looked down at herself then up, those hazel eyes framed by a crooked brow. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Nothin'. Not a damn thing, cuz it's gonna get you laid good later and you know it. Food and sex. Perfect cocktail when a chick wants somethin'."

That invisible rod which came and went shot full force up her spine. Every glorious inch of her five foot nine inch frame stood straight and tall, as those hazel eyes now narrowed. "So, you think _this_," she held up her own plate," is because I _want_ something?"

Tig knew he was on the verge of acting like a total dick when all Daisy was doing was something nice for him. "So, what…you're doin' it because you love me or somethin'?"

"Oh God, no," now her annoyance showed through. "How can I do something you make impossible?"

"_Think she's gonna wanna be your late night piece of ass the rest of her life?"_

And his verbal dickness just kept on coming. "What is it, Daze? Gettin' tired of this arrangement?"

Again, she stiffened and that look told Tig she was trying her best to keep her cool façade. As if biting her lip to hold back what she really wanted to say, she reached inside the thin material of her top and pulled the chain out. "What do I want, Tig? Just an honest answer from you, that's all. "Why did you give me this?"

Why do women need a specific reason for everything?

"…_bitches have a way of gettin' what they want."_

"I wanted ya to have it," he cryptically said.

"I appreciate that, Tig, but…why? Can you at least tell me in your own words instead of leaving me to assume something?"

"…_bitches have a way of gettin' what they want."_

Fine. He'd give her what she wanted. But it may not be exactly what she wanted to hear. "Because you're more than just some random chick I'm bangin'. That's my tag info, doll-face. My life before the club – engraved on it. May not be ink or a ring, but you should be grateful."

Hazel eyes nearly smoked with audacity. "_Grateful?_ And what about you, Tig? Aren't you _grateful_ that I've been so compliant, respectful and…obedient to your rules?"

Oh shit, here it comes. Their first-ever fight on the '_where do we stand'_ crap. But as shitty as he acted sometimes, he didn't lose sight of the fact that she'd been playing the game just fine. Up till now. "You know I am. You want me to say it?"

"No," she said in a whisper. "I want you to show it."

He twinkled his blue eyes as a grin split his face. "Sure, doll," he said, reaching for her. "Dessert before dinner."

But she pulled away. "That's not how I want you to show it."

Hands on hips, he rolled his eyes, surprised at how much patience he was showing. "So, how _do _you want it?"

"Acknowledge me."

He didn't have to ask what she meant. He knew. "Daze….."

"No, Tig. No excuses. If I mean this much to you to wear your military identification, then don't keep me…_us_ a secret anymore. Practically everybody has us figured out so we're not fooling anyone when we try to avoid each other at club functions."

The last thing Tig was going to do was admit she was right. He had no reason. Everybody assumed from Gemma to Clay to Jax and so on down the line. That didn't mean he was ready to prance her around in public, arm in arm, sneaking kisses, sitting next to each other on the couch just because eighty percent of his own charter was playing happy homebodies. He already changed enough. He learned to act before reacting. He demoted himself. He got used to playing it safe. Why was everyone pushing him to conform all the way? He was tired of feeling like he had to play follow-the-leader – he still needed to be in control of something in his life. "Then maybe you shouldn't go to club functions anymore."

Damn, that was probably the assiest thing he could've said right now and judging by how Daisy's hands and lower lip were shaking, he knew he hit her low and hard. "Whether you like it or not, Tig," she said, looking for her purse, "I'm part of this club. The sergeant's wife is my best friend who asked me to be god-mother to her son. I'm going to be there next Sunday, so you better get used to seeing me."

And with hands still shaking, she reached around her neck and removed the chain, laying it on the counter. "This means something to you. If and when you decide you want to acknowledge….._us_, I'll wear it, but until then it means nothing to me." And without another word she headed for the door.

"Walk out that door Daze, don't plan on comin' back."

Stopping, she unzipped her clutch, pulled out his spare key and left it on the table by the door. "I won't."

The door closed leaving him alone in his house with a full fridge, two plates of food, a dog, his television, beer and cheesecake. Quiet. Peaceful. No shit. He should be content.

Instead he felt like the biggest schmuck on the planet.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Again, thanks for the support - all of it. I appreciate all feedback, even ones with valid points of constructive criticism. Having written 6 full stories doesn't mean there isn't room for me to grow as a writer. I will never sacrifice detail, but I don't want to sound like a broken record either.**

**I was on a writing roll this morning and decided to post this now as I have to embark on a massive business project. The drama needs to get set up and here we get the ball rolling.**

**As always, I love to know what you think, especially up to my neck in spreadsheets.**

**Thanks and enjoy!**

**~/~**

**Chapter Four**

**Three Days Later**

**Tuesday, August 18****th**

"No, no, sweetie. Cross one foot over the other when you walk."

On Rafe's command, Daisy walked the strutted walk in a pair of oyster-colored peep-toed platforms like a model during fashion week inside the stylish, little boutique. She had to admit – they were perfect. The linen overlay making them look and feel cooler. "Okay, I'm sold. I'll take them."

"Of course you'll_ take_ them," Rafe said. "You're already _owning_ them. Oh, and ditch that boring sand-polish. Nothing but a French pedi for those peeps."

Daisy rolled her eyes – certain that Rafe might sprout a vagina at any moment.

"Oh my, stop the clock," he said, spotting a matching clutch perched on a glass shelf and handing it to her. "You must," he insisted.

Taking the clutch she checked the price tag and sighed with relief. "I will."

Rafe clapped his hands with an excited little squeal. "My work is done. Now let's get out of here before all this swag makes me orgasm. Sushi. On me."

A sweet pair of shoes, matching bag and a plate of spicey, crab spring rolls in front of her took Daisy's mind off her actions Saturday night, but only until she got a little saki in her. Her dejection did not go unnoticed by her dinner partner.

"Daisy, dear?" Rafe asked.

"Hmm?" she hummed back as she took a solemn bite.

"Spill."

It was proof positive of Rafe's sexuality as any straight man would've read a woman's sigh as contentment and silence as her decision not to nag. But women read each other differently. And Rafe sort of counted. "Sorry," she said. "It's just…personal. I don't want to ruin our dinner."

Rafe studied her, picking the linen napkin off his pleated navy trousers to blot his mouth. "The only way you'll ruin it is by sitting here like you missed a major sale at Saks. Talk to me girlfriend."

Even though the club figured her and Tig out, Daisy never mentioned her relationship with him in any kind of detail to outsiders – and that included Rafe. But, now that she had kept true to her decision to walk out on Tig if he didn't make an effort - only for him to _let_ her walk - she wondered if the rules still applied. Better play it safe and be vague. "My…..love life," she finally said. "If you even want to use the word _love."_ She meant what she said to Tig Saturday night – he made it impossible to be loved."

"Problems with the mystery man?"

Again, Daisy sighed as Saturday night replayed over and over in her head so much it hurt. "I don't think there is a mystery man anymore. We…broke up, if you could call it that."

Rafe let out an annoyed 'pfft'. "Men."

"Actually, it was me. I…..walked out on him."

Smoothing a gelled piece of hair back, Rafe propped his elbows on the table and clasped his well-manicured fingers together to rest under his chin. "Tell, tell."

Two more sips of saki loosened Daisy up. "I just…I just wanted…"

"…..more sex?"

"No. Believe me we had more of that than anything."

Rafe's brown eyes lit up as he sat up straight. "Really? Maybe I want to hear _that _story instead."

Daisy cocked her head at him with a look. "Focus, please."

"Sorry. My bad." He assumed the chin-on-hands position again. "Continue."

"I just…I just thought that after five months it was time to acknowledge me. Is that asking too much?"

Rafe now leaned back, legs crossed, right elbow perched on the back of his chair. "Five months? Sweetie, after five months I'd expect a week in Cabo. That's how long you and he have been…?"

"…..seeing each other under the radar," she supplied the answer.

"But….why? Why was he keeping you a secret?" Rafe suddenly leaned forward and hushed. "Is he in politics?" Then he covered his mouth with his hand and gasped. "It's not your boss – the mayor?"

Daisy almost lost her saki. "Oh, God no!" she gasped back. "It's just….complicated. I wish I could say more. Maybe somewhere down the line I will."

Rafe studied her like a piece of art work. "Hmm."

"What?"

"You're my client's BFF. She's married to a biker. Which makes me wonder….."

As much as she tried to master it, the saki didn't allow her to keep her facial expressions under wraps. "Rafe….." she warned.

He playfully slapped the edge of the table and smiled. "Shut your bad self up." he uttered. "This mystery man is one of…..them?"

Screw it. She gave Tig an opportunity to be honest with his intentions and he squandered it. She walked. He let her. The rules no longer apply. "Yes. Okay, yes," Daisy quietly said.

"And…" Rafe drawled out, "he's going to be there Sunday."

"Yes."

"And I'm going to gather Amanda's invitation was so we'd look like we were…."

Daisy groaned. "Oh, Rafe, it was my suggestion. Please don't be offended. I didn't meant to – you know – use you."

"Honey – an afternoon surrounded by bikers? Use away. Carlo's business trip couldn't have come at a better time."

"Watch it," Daisy warned.

"Oh, I'm just kidding. I wouldn't dare test his Sicilian temper. But….I can enjoy the view."

"Don't enjoy it too much. These are hetero-bikers who won't think twice about kicking your ass – and I don't mean in an enjoyable way."

"Duly noted. But hey….all joking aside," he put his hand on hers. "I'm there for you, sweetie. You'll get past this - and beyond." He paused a bit. "You did the right thing."

Daisy offered him an indecisive look. "You think?"

"Daisy McKay – you're young, beautiful, tall, thin and could make heads turn wearing a feed bag. Of course….if accompanied with the right shoes."

She let out a chuckle. "Did you take an estrogen pill today or something?"

He leaned back, feigning offense. "Don't be a bitch. I'm the good guy here."

And the gay ones usually were.

**~A~**

**Later That Night**

Brittle, blonde hair replaced glossy dark hair twinged with red. A pair of double-D's replaced less than a handful. Deep curves replaced slender lines while muscled calves from balancing on five-inch stilettos replaced long, shapely legs which went on for miles.

And over-dramatic sex-sounds which made even the worst porn movie sound good replaced genuine gasps of pleasure.

Tig did his best to block it out as he took out day three of his royal prickness on the unassuming croweater as he balanced his hand on her back, practically smushing her face into the mattress. His eyes were squeezed tight as to block out any vision of the little, stiff-assed bitch who had the audacity to challenge him before walking out. But that sandle-wood scent she always seemed to be covered in still clung to his sheets, wafting in between the aroma of cigarette smoke, beer and spray-tan fumes which permeated the chick he was nailing.

Once he was done, he immediately pulled out – wanting as little connection afterwards as possible. This from a man who, for the last five months, let a woman remain in his bed until after the sun came up. But Daisy wasn't a club whore. He knew that and told her so.

And all she wanted from him was a public acknowledgement of it.

Falling on his back, he covered his eyes with his forearm. The third bitch in as many days since Daisy walked out did nothing other than provide three to six seconds of orgasmic forgetfulness. Now it was time to go.

"Get you anything, Tigger?" the ravaged blonde cooed with hopefulness.

"Yeah," he replied, not once looking at her. "Your ass outta here. You're in my dog's spot."

He didn't take a breath until he felt the mattress dip then spring up –signaling the woman had taken his advice. "May I use your bathroom?" she asked.

"Knock yourself out. Just don't leave a mess." He had gotten used to the tidiness Daisy left behind on the mornings-after while she got ready for work.

Rustling clothes, footsteps and running water weren't enough to drown out his thoughts. Only until he heard paws tip-tap across the scratched hardwood and carefully make their way up to the vacated side of the bed did Tig open his eyes and smile. "Miss me?" he asked as she rubbed Sasha's head. The dog's low rumble of contentment morphed into a low growl as the fully dressed and cleaned up blonde came back in the room.

"Anything you need before I leave?"

Why were they trying to be so nice when he was going out of his way to be an asshole? "Nope. Did what you came to do."

"Can I say something before I leave?"

"Does it start with _'good'_ and end with '_bye_'?"

"Get her back," she said, heading out of the bedroom.

He propped his hands behind him and sat up. "The fuck you sayin'?"

She stopped, not turning around to look at him. "The pink razor on the edge of the tub. The sample bottle of Clinique moisturizer on the shelf. The burned-down Yankee Candle in the pail. I don't think they belong to you. Whoever they do belong to, get her back."

"Mind your fuckin' business and leave," he ordered before laying back down.

And when he heard the front door open and thankfully close did he just comprehend what happened. Shit, even the damn croweaters were rooting for her.

**~A~**

**Next Afternoon**

**Wednesday, August 19th**

A toasty-brown cotton dress was the perfect outfit to break in her new shoes. Good thing Daisy decided to do it today because they were beginning to pinch. And it couldn't have been a worse day because her boss was holed up in city hall meetings leaving her to practically run the farm. Horse-training schedules, riding lessons, landscaping, feed and seed deliveries – she worked those new shoes dashing from the air conditioned office, to the desert-dry eighty-eight degree day orchestrating it all.

And the recent addition of storage units set back on the property past the stables brought in people unloading truckfuls of furniture and junk throughout the day as well. What used to be a quiet, serene setting on the farm now was busier than the Golden Gate bridge at rush hour. But Daisy didn't mind. More work kept her busy. And being busy kept her mind off…..other things. Code for Tig Trager.

Finally able to sit down around eleven thirty a.m. after a hectic morning getting the staff underway, signing for deliveries, dealing with a mother whose daughter stepped in a ginormous pile of horse dung with her two hundred dollar riding boots, Daisy kicked off her brand new shoes and looked forward to the pile of paperwork in front of her. Wiggling her toes, she remembered to make a pedi appointment. She quickly called the little salon in Charming center and booked tomorrow for five p.m. then texted Amanda to see if she was up for a visit beforehand. Between her texts back and forth with her friend over the last several days explaining the 'Tig situation' Daisy was sure she was way over her limit.

With a deep breath of calm, she began to organize the stack in front of her. Organization was very 'zen' as it was a reminder of being in control. Walking out on Tig after delivering her terms should've been the ultimate sign that she took control, but the disheartening feeling which tore through her when he barely lifted a grease-covered finger to stop her hit her as soon as she got in her car that evening and cried all the way home.

_No more,_ she told herself as she sorted receiving tickets from bills from lesson tickets to be invoiced. She was done. She had a great job, kick-ass clothes, two good friends and a baby to dote on when she felt the need. Daisy had to look at her five months with Tig as a learning experience – if only to understand the club and its ways better in an effort to be more supportive of Amanda and her position in it. The sex was a bonus and even though she had been sickly attracted to Tig, he hadn't produced one action to which she could say she loved him.

She needed tea. No, the sudden growling told her she needed lunch as her sushi dinner the night before wasn't exactly rib-sticking. But with the farm hopping and Oswald gone for the day, Daisy thought it best not to leave before picking up the phone to call in a sandwich order from the little deli down the road.

"Excuse me."

The office door opened and the female half of a clueless couple came in. "Yes?" Daisy replied, putting the receiver down.

"We have storage unit number eleven," the man said. "Have a pick up full of stuff, but we forgot our key."

Slipping her relieved feet back into her snug shoes, she stood up. "No problem," she said, going over to the master key box to remove number eleven, then removing the unit's file from the cabinet. She followed the rules – no proper identification and security question equaled no access to the unit. "Can I see your ID's please."

The obvious husband and wife pulled out their wallets and showed their licenses. Daisy matched them to the copies of the license inside the file. "Mother's maiden names?"

"Wilson," the man said.

"Filchucker," the woman followed.

_Poor woman_, Daisy thought. _I'd get married too if only to get rid of 'Filchucker'._

If ever she did get married, Daisy was certain her last name would never be Trager.

_Shut up, Daisy,_ she scolded herself as she led the couple outside. "Follow me."

After letting them in their unit, Daisy walked back – her shoes thankfully stretching a bit more. Rather than order a sandwich, she decided to just grab her purse and make a quick run to the deli – until…until she heard….

Motorcycles.

Even in the dry heat of a NorCal August afternoon, beads of sweat broke out above Daisy's lip. _"No,"_ she said out loud. _"Please don't let him be with them."_ Whether he showed up or not depended upon what mood he was in. If he wanted to rub it in her face, he'd show. If he wanted her to stew, he wouldn't. Unless….he was ordered to ride. At least that much she knew from her time spent with him, and several times he had to cut out because Jax called.

She should dash inside, but the louder the engines got to the end of the driveway, the more she felt unmovable. And it wasn't until the three riders came into view that Daisy's fear turned to relief as neither of the profiles matched Tig's sharp features. Then again, as they got even closer, none of them looked familiar at all. And when they stopped and dismounted did Daisy get a glimpse of the top and bottom rockers on the backs of their cuts. _Gate Keepers – California._

They were members of another motorcycle club.

Daisy stilled as a thirty-something, tall, muscular man with a goatee and a blue bandanna tied around his head walked over to her. Her trained eyes scanned the patches sewed to the front of his cut – _President _on the left side, _Sleeper_ on the right.

Sleeper?

"May I help you?" Pre-Amanda, Daisy probably would've made a bee-line for the office and locked the door behind her.

The biker shamelessly looked her up and down – an obvious habit of the culture. "Sure can, pretty lady. Here you got storage units for rent."

She nodded. "Yes. We do." Something made her spine stiffen which had nothing to do with the invisible rod. "Would you like a price list?"

The man arrogantly chuckled before cocking his head to the side as if to check out her ass. "Nope. Price don't matter. Just need to store our shit soon as possible. So why don't you take your pretty-self to find someone to hook us up."

Daisy stood tall as months of being numbed by Tig's sexist talk made her brave. "That someone would be me," she boldly replied. "We've only three units left – all twelve by twelve's."

"One'll do," the biker said, before sticking his fingers in his mouth and whistling to. "Lilo!" he yelled out.

A shorter young man in his mid-twenties trotted over from his bike – the patch sewed onto the right side of his cut spelled out _LiLo_. That was his name, which meant the big, bandanna'd dude went by Sleeper. "Yo, boss?"

"Get with her and do the paperwork for a unit. Put it in the club's name. Me and MoMan are gonna take a look around."

"Just please stay away from the training and riding areas and don't touch the horses," Daisy spoke up.

The biker obviously named Sleeper gave her a hard look – none too keen on being told what to do by a woman. And with her sudden bravery, Daisy didn't care. She was in charge of this farm and wasn't about to let a bunch of strangers run amok. "Just go do the paperwork little lady and not worry about us."

And before she could protest further, this Sleeper walked off with the third biker named MoMan leaving her alone with Lilo who spoke up. "Shall we?"

Daisy led the way inside the office and began pulling out the blank rental forms, handing them to Lilo with a pen. "Fill in the boxes outlined in red. I'll need a photocopy of your…boss' ID."

"Uh, huh," Lilo replied without looking at her.

Daisy was intrigued and, over time learned how to ask questions without it seeming like asking. "Sure the twelve by twelve will be big enough?"

"Yeah," Lilo replied. "Just till the new clubhouse is ready."

_Clubhouse? Around here?_ "Hope this is a convenient location."

"Yeah. Only a mile from here."

_Does the club know about this_? Something she remembered one time when Tig was watching some reality show which followed – as he put it – some 'lame-ass, wannabe MC'. There was an episode where they were looking for a new clubhouse and protocol was for them to inform any other MCs in the area of their presence.

"So, your name is Lilo," she asked, getting more personal with her questions.

"My ridin' name," he said with a laugh. He was obviously a bit more personal than his boss. "Mama always said I was a 'little loco' – called me Lilo for short."

"And the other two guys you're with?" He seemed chatty enough to answer.

"MoMan's short for 'mountain man'- he was born and raised in Colorado."

"And your boss…_Sleeper?"_

With a dark face he gave Daisy a strange look. "Don't ask."

That told her enough.

The door swung open and Sleeper and MoMan barged in as if they owned the place, the first nudging Lilo with his foot. "You done?"

"Yep," Lilo replied, handing the forms over. "Sign and give her your ID."

After scribbling his name, Sleeper grabbed the chain dangling on the side of his leg and pulled his wallet out. Tugging a glove off, he slipped his license out and handed it to Daisy with another hard stare.

Taking the license, Daisy made a copy and put it in a manila file with the signed paperwork. "Need first and last month's rent as well," she said, handing the license back. "That'll be four thirteen fifty – including tax."

Tucking it back in his wallet, Sleeper pulled out a stack of bills, peeling off exactly four hundred and fifty. "Put the extra towards the account."

Marking the amount in the file, she wrote out a receipt for the cash and handed it to them along with a key. "Unit number fifteen," she said, handing the key to Sleeper. "It's all yours."

"Later sweetheart," Sleeper said, nodding to the door. "C'mon – move your asses. Got a lot of shit to do."

Once she heard their bikes start up and leave, Daisy sat back down and opened the file – reading the name on the license. _Daniel Watson. _Also known as Sleeper – a road name best not asked about. His MC was moving in a mile from here. Too close to Charming. Too close to The Sons.

Forget lunch. Daisy picked up her cell and called Amanda.


	5. Chapter 5

**This story's practically falling off my fingertips. Hope I'm not overloading with the fast updates. Hoping to wrap it up in five more as it'll move fast as I intended, but I'll try not to sacrifice anything - promise!**

**Let's roll - enjoy and review!**

**~/~**

**Chapter Five**

**Next Morning**

"You kiddin' me?"

Jax sat at his kitchen table, a squirming Thomas on his lap as the seventeen month old made a play for the cell in his hand. "She's sure? A'ight, call everyone. Table –," he paused to look at the time," eleven. We'll discuss it. Gonna give Clay a quick call – see if he ever heard of 'em. Yeah….thanks Hap."

Snapping the phone closed, the young, MC president's nostrils flared. "Punk-ass little….."

"Don't." Notepad in hand, Tara walked in just in time, saving Jax from saying more than he should in front of a toddler beginning to repeat things. Taking Thomas from her husband, she placed him on the floor to let him scoot around. "I don't need him calling some two year old girl in daycare a…..bitch," her voice lowered.

"Sorry. Occupational hazard." He nodded towards the pad. "Makin' a list and checkin' it twice?"

She whacked him on the shoulder with it. "Trying to figure out where to put eighteen extra bodies. Piney offered the cabin – gonna stay with that lady Marge he's been seeing. That should house four. Two are gonna crash at Maniac's apartment. Toby and Erin are giving up their loft above Amanda's store – can fit three or four there. Rest we'll situate at the clubhouse."

Jax smiled, pulling Tara to the spot on his lap where Thomas vacated. "My well oiled machine," he told her.

"Well," she said, pausing to give him a kiss, "gotta make SAMCRO's new president look good."

He gave her a look. "Please tell me you gave ma somethin' to do?"

"Had no choice. If I didn't she was gonna stalk me. She's on cake and catering duty. Lyla's rounding up the…..girls to setup, serve and clean."

"CaraCara girls?" Jax asked, to which Tara made a face. "Hey….got eighteen men to entertain."

"As long as they're _entertained_ after the children are gone."

"I'm sure they'll hold out. Hey….proud of ya."

"Thanks. So….what was the phone call about?"

He shook his head. "Stupid shit we need to nip in the bud."

"Stupid _stupid_ or stupid…._dangerous_?"

"Please. Ain't worth blinkin' an eye over."

**~A~**

"Gate Keepers. Upstart MC. Non-one-percenters. Anyone heard of 'em?"

Jax lit a cigarette, sat back in his chair and waited for answers. To his left, Bobby rubbed his beard. "Can't say I have – especially if they're new."

Everyone else around the table except for Hap shook their heads to which Jax nodded down to Juice. "Anything you can find?"

Working the pad on his sweet, new MacBook, Juice quickly scanned his various searches. "Ain't like they got an official website. Don't know if they got more than one charter. Search on the name pulled up a few articles - minor arrests. B&E, public disturbance – nothin' major. Got a photo of one member – real name's Edwin Colton. Has 'MC" on his cut, but you're right - no one percent patch."

"What about 'em'?" Opie asked

"Yeah, what they got to do with us?" Maniac added.

"Takin' up residence in a new clubhouse – right outside Charmin'," Happy filled in.

"And I don't recall receivin' the mandatory phone call from any of 'em," Jax stated. "MC protocol. You move your charter in, you make sure it ain't no other club's territory unless you get the okay."

"Pussy-assed wannabe's, man," Tig piped up. "No wonder they don't know the drill."

"Yeah, well, they're settin' up shop a mile from Oswald's farm," Jax stated. "Need to find out where – pay 'em a visit."

"I can do some re-con," Big Phil offered. "If it's only a mile, I can check structures east and west of the farm. Bound to see someone or a bike in front of somethin'."

"Do it," Jax firmly said. "The sooner the better. They need to be made aware of that fact before their official move-in." He looked towards his right at Hap. "Think Daisy can pull any info off the…."

"Whoa….wait," Tig cut in. "What the fuck does she gotta do with this?"

Jax held back a smirk. "These Gate Keeper's showed up at Oswald's farm yesterday to rent a unit. Acted like a bunch of shitheads. Guess she knows protocol better than they do because she called Amanda." He thought a moment then took a drag. "Now that you mention it, why didn't she call you?"

"Trouble in paradise?" Chibs asked, causing muffled snickers.

Tig ignored the humor at his expense. "Ain't got no reason to call because there ain't nothin' goin' on. Now get off my balls about it and tell me what we're gonna do about these putz's."

"Need to find out _why _they're here," Hap told him. "Too much of a coincidence. And, seems this Sleeper dude's carryin' around some serious bank in his pocket."

"Sleeper?" Juice winced.

"President - AKA Daniel Watson," Jax said, accepting a confirming nod from Hap.

"Gotta have some kind of business in play to be rollin' in that kinda dough," Bobby said.

"Unless they're playin' bitch to someone who's bank-rollin' 'em," Maniac replied.

"Whatever their business is, they need to know not to take it _into_ or _through _Charmin' Jax said emphatically. "They wanna move in close proximity to the Sons without proper notice, then they're gonna have the consequences of boundaries." He looked down at Phil. "Take the van and Rat – no cuts. Start doin' a sweep of the area. If this clubhouse ain't ready that they gotta store their shit, then look for structures with some type of construction goin' on or work trucks parked in front."

"Or have 'em followed afta they make a run to their unit," Chibs offered.

Jax nodded then looked to Bobby. "Give Daisy a call at the farm. Make sure she calls when they show up."

"Wait, Jax," Tig said. "You really wanna involve the stiff ass?"

"Problem?"

"No."

"Good," Jax said, slamming the gavel down. "Cuz the last thing I want is problems."

**~A~**

At four ten that afternoon, the bell above the door to Petal To The Metal jingled sweetly as Daisy walked in. Two customers were in back looking through the refrigerated flower case while Erin rolled up leather belts on display. "Daisy – hi," she said, noticing her walk in. "Amanda's in back."

"Thanks." Crossing through the store, past the gorgeous circular glass cases in the center filled with Lyla's hand-made jewelry, Daisy went through the open door of the back room which served as Amanda's office. On her desk, Will sat in his seat as Amanda sat behind it with a bottle in his mouth. She looked up at her friend with tired eyes. "Someone demanded his five p.m. feeding an hour early."

Not since her shopping and sushi excursion with Rafe two nights ago did Daisy find a genuine smile – until now. "Hungry boy."

"Tired mom," Amanda shot back. "At least if he eats now, he'll be quiet enough to where I can get some paperwork done and be out of here by five."

"Why are you even here?" Daisy asked her friend as she gently stroked the dark hair on Will's head. "It's called maternity _leave."_

"Yeah, I know," Amanda said with a yawn. "I can connect into the POS system and check emails from home, but I need to get back to routine. Don't know how stay-at-home moms do it. Going stir crazy with just a dog and a baby all day. Not to mention I felt my ass spreading to match my waist." She motioned to the empty, plastic salad container. "Been low carb since last Sunday so I can lose myself in pasta alfredo and cake at the party."

"That's why you're tired," Daisy said.

"Well it certainly isn't because I'm pregnant," Amanda mused. "I have to make an appointment for that."

"Hmm," Daisy hummed. "So when_ is_ the next…..appointment?"

Amanda glared at her. "You serious?"

"Don't you want your kids close in age?"

"Not _that_ close. You just missed Rafe – took Lyla to this _'faboosh'_ jewelry place for supplies and new design ideas. Said he's looking forward to Sunday with you."

"And I'll need the support."

Amanda pulled the bottle out of Will's mouth with a pop then picked him up to burp him over her shoulder. "Daisy, this didn't have anything to do with our talk on Saturday, did it? I never meant to…."

"No, no…it isn't your fault. I mean, yeah, you gave me something to think about, but it was my decision. I just…I just thought…." she trailed off.

"That Tig would've owned up?"

Daisy shrugged. "I should've known."

A belch best suited for a beer drinking man spouted from Will as both women snickered. "His father would be proud," Amanda joked, before regarding her solemn friend. "You'll be fine. I'm here for you. Rafe's here for you. And this little guy," she crooked him in her arm to continue feeding, "you need to be here for."

Offering her index finger, the six week old baby grabbed it. Daisy never thought about marriage and motherhood the way other single women her age probably do. She never fell victim to the ticking biological clock as she couldn't even do relationships properly, let alone take care of a baby. "So, about yesterday – did I do the right thing calling you?"

"Guess so, because as soon as I told Hap he looked ready to take off on his bike looking for this…..Sleeper. Club's big on rules – especially following them. They sounded like a bunch of…..assholes," Amanda whispered the last word as if the baby would hear, let alone repeat it.

"The Lilo guy was okay and that MoMan never said a word, but yeah….Sleeper….Daniel Watson…what a douche."

Amanda almost choked. "I never heard you use that word."

"Considering I've been with someone the last five months who's the epitome of it." She stopped herself. "No, I'm _not_ going to talk about him."

"Atta girl. Now go or you'll be late for your pedi."

With a kiss on the cheek to both friend and baby, Daisy left the store and checked her watch. She had ten minutes and the salon was across the street – right next to a bakery. With good ol' fashioned black and white cookies displayed in the window.

All the low-carb talk suddenly made her crave them as she crossed the street – her pretty, red, open-toed sandals clicking against the pavement contrasting a simple, cool black and white polka-dot dress. Inside the bakery, she bent over in front of the glass display to make her selection when she heard footsteps come out. Instead of a 'can I help you', Daisy got a different greeting.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Daisy knew that voice without having to look. It belonged to _that woman_. Straightening up, she faced the club's former matriarch and smiled politely. "Gemma. Hi."

"Take a wrong turn after work, darlin'?"

Daisy didn't care how much praised Gemma heaped on her after assisting during Will's birth, the woman still had a thorn in her side for her and went out of her way to be as cool as possible.

Like some biker she recently walked out on.

"Pedi appointment next door."

Securing the strap of her handbag to her shoulder with one hand, Gemma leaned against the pastry case with the other. "Getting yourself all prettied up for Sunday?"

A big '_none of your business'_ wanted to fall from Daisy's mouth before an employee came out front. "Here you go, Mrs. Morrow. All set for Sunday delivery."

Gemma smirked at Daisy, knowing she was saved from a snarky retort, and took the offered ticket. "Ten a.m. – sharp. We'll have people there to help you set up."

"Guess you're all ready for Sunday too," Daisy asked.

"Yep," Gemma replied, putting the order in her purse. "You may be 'God-ma', but I'm still 'grand-ma'." Translation: I still matter more than you do.

"Are you being helped, miss?"

Checking her watch again, Daisy shook her head. "No, but…nevermind. I have an appointment. See you Sunday, Gemma."

"I'll walk you out," the former-queen offered.

_Please, don't_, Daisy said to herself, but found Gemma right on the sidewalk next to her. "Things…okay?"

_Things._ Daisy knew that was Gemma-speak for 'Tig'. "Things are fine, Gemma." Not that they were, but Gemma was the _last _person Daisy wanted to disclose what happened. "Sorry, I really have to…"

Motorcycles rumbling down the street caught the ears of both women, not to mention the smirk Gemma offered at the look on Daisy's face. "That sound'll always stop you in your tracks."

Daisy looked past Gemma towards the string of bikes coming down Main Street, squinted, then stepped back a bit. "Right sound, wrong riders."

Lips pursed, eyes narrowed Gemma spun in place to see five bikes making their way down. The tight, single file formation was a dead give-away that it wasn't the Sons. "Who the…..?"

"The Gate Keepers," Daisy whispered through the noise. The head of the pack eyed Gemma before lingering a bit too long on Daisy until they passed. _Sleeper,_ Daisy's said to herself.

"Shit," Gemma said out loud.


	6. Chapter 6

**For those who read my Hap/Amanda 2-shot 'Rendezvous', the reason Hap was pulled on the road in that story is slightly alluded to in this chapter so if you need a refresher, you can refer to it. I may cross-over the storyline, but not sure yet. Timeline-wise, Redezvous took place somewhere between Redemption and Garden of Evil – before they were married, before Hap was SAA and before Daisy appeared – so almost 2 years have gone by since. Just an FYI.**

**Party time next chapter!**

**Enjoy & review!**

**Chapter Six**

**Next Morning - Friday**

"Dude…..crumbs."

From the van's driver's side, Big Phil tore his eyes from a pair of binoculars to glare at Rat who was busy wolfing down a bear claw danish. "Bro…it ain't a limo. They stow bodies in the back – what's a few crumbs?"

Phil took it out of his hand and shoved it back in the bag.

"Hey!"

"Shut up," Phil half yelled- half whispered. "I got the patch – you do as I say. Now…." he resumed looking through the binoculars, "pay attention and be ready with that thing."

Squirming down in the passenger's side of the club's van which was parked a safe distance away, Rat propped a small device on his lap then swiveled his head around. "Think that's the building?"

"Several bikes in front," Phil replied. "Only place within the radius that could double as a clubhouse. Gotta be."

The sun was reflecting off something which caught Phil's attention through the binoculars and when a person came into view, he realized it was a cell phone – pressed to the ear of a big, tall dude wearing a cut. And it wasn't a Son.

"I see you, Sleeper," Phil quietly sung out, then nudged Rat. "Start workin' that thing."

A penchant for noir-style films and spy genre was a guilty-pleasure of Redwood's newest prospect and Rat's extensive artillery of mini-cams, hidden mic's and various types of tracking devices made him quite an asset to the club. On Phil's command, he furiously worked the keys on what looked like a mini-netbook which was used for tracing cell phone calls.

"Shit, he's walkin' away," Phil said, as his target was moving out of visual range. "Anything?"

"Need more time, bro," Rat replied, his eyes never leaving the screen as it scrambled to determine a destination.

"Shit!" Phil said a little louder as his target ended the phone call, then turned to Rat. "Please tell me you got something?"

Rat shook his head. "Nothin' pinpointed – just a general area."

"Where?"

"New Mexico."

**~A~**

"And I thought this was gonna be a dull mornin'." Clay bent over his kitchen table to where Amanda placed the baby seat containing his grandson.

"Just for a couple of hours," Amanda replied. "Gotta take Tank to the vet for his distemper shot then bring him back to the clubhouse so he can sleep it off. Then I'm just gonna check in with Erin at the store, go to the bank, dry cleaners and pick up his outfit for Sunday." She punctuated the last remark by gently squeezing Will's little sock-covered foot.

"Take your time," Clay said, unbuckling the baby from his seat before lifting him out and over his shoulder. "That's better."

"You did that with ease," Amanda noticed. "Hands feeling okay?"

"Gemma jabbed me this mornin'," he said, his juiced up right hand rubbing Will's back. "When you called to bring 'im over, I gave myself a double dose. Last thing I wanna do is drop 'im."

"I appreciate that…grandpa."

The former MC president smiled against the sprinkling of dark hair covering his grandson's head until a thought made him revert back to that mode. "You see that other MC toolin' around Charmin' today you let Hap know," he instructed.

"I heard. You know who these guys are?"

"Nah. Jax called me about 'em the other day. Did some of my own inquiry. No one's heard of 'em. He pulled out a kitchen chair with his foot and sat – never taking both hands off the baby.

"They must be new," Amanda said.

"Obviously, else they would'a known what to do. Bunch of punks put on a piece of leather and think that makes 'em an MC." He shook his head then glanced up at Amanda. "Heard your little friend was the one that gave the heads up."

"Three of these guys showed up at the farm to rent a storage unit. Said the president acted like a jerk."

"Hmm, and she called _you_?"

"I'm the Bat-line to the new SAA."

"Ain't she diddlin' the old SAA?"

Amanda rolled her eyes, then gathered her purse and keys. "I've never seen a bunch of grown men so interested in each other's love lives."

"Hey, I'm retired. Graspin' at straws here. Oh, by the way, got a nice surprise Sunday. Mainly for Hap, but also you and this little guy here."

Amanda perked up. "Yeah? What is it?"

Clay held Will out in front of him so he could see his face. "Now what part of_ surprise_ did your mama not understand?" he asked the cooing infant.

She went for the doorknob. "Point taken," she said, walking out. "Be back in a few."

Ignoring her exit, Clay stood up with Will crooked in his arm. "C'mon, little fella. Let's grab a beer and watch The View."

**~A~**

**Later That Afternoon**

Jax had to make a statement without starting a war.

Breaking away from an oil change, he had taken the urgent phone call before snapping his cell shut and storming out of the garage, only to be stopped.

"Guessing you found them?" Pulling a drag off a late-morning cigarette, Gemma leaned against the doorway to the office, immediately blowing smoke out into the desert-dry air.

Jax regarded his mother. "Got it covered, ma. Don't worry."

"Oh, I'm not baby," she cooly replied, French-tipped nails flicking ashes to the ground. "But _they_ didn't look to worried riding down the center of town, sweet as you please."

With an eye roll, Jax jogged over to the row of bikes where Happy was crouched down, lug-nut wrench in hand. "Hey – just heard from Phil."

Happy straightened up. "What's the word?"

"Got a positive ID on their clubhouse," Jax replied. "Empty buildin' near Lodi Lake Park."

"Not exactly _in_ Charmin', but damn close," Happy replied. "Wanna bring T.O. into this?"

"Not yet. Don't wanna get The Bastards involved until we know what these Gate Keepers' M.O. is. Rat was able to capture the outgoin' call on Sleeper's cell."

"Who was it to?"

"Not sure _who_, but was able to get _where_. New Mexico."

Hap's expression told Jax he caught on. "Ironic – considerin' our entire Albuquerque charter's recently been…..eliminated."

_Eliminated_ was an interesting choice of words for Redwood's prized assassin –turned-Sergeant At Arms, considering he was one of the Sons charged with the responsibility of 'eliminating' the SAMCALB turncoats after their bloody feud with New Mexico's _La Nuestra Familia_. Whether one had to do with the other was a longshot, but it was too much of a coincidence to write off any possibility. He looked around the parking lot. "Phil's keeping watch on the clubhouse. Seems to be at least three or four members there. Need to ride out asap. Who's available?"

"Bobby took Chibs and Ope with 'im to The Crow's Nest to get payment. Juice is at the package store gettin' the booze order ready for Sunday. Maniac's inside I think."

"Which leaves the magical question?" Jax mused.

"Tig ain't here yet."

Jax scratched the back of his head. "Get 'im here – now. We leave in thirty."

**~A~**

Finally, some potential shit-kicking business.

Tig never considered the fact that a changing-of-the-guard might be viewed as SAMCRO letting that 'guard' down. Clay's long-term presence at the head of the table reached out far enough to send the message loud and clear – Charming belongs to SAMCRO. But a young president fixated with cushioning his club within a legitimate bubble may be viewed as a sign of weakness. Yeah, it brought down the threat of local and federal eyes on them and kept them on the other side of the jail cell, but for an MC with charters reaching as far east as Boston, north as Canada and even overseas, the lack of proper respect from a new club was like a slap in the face.

Good. This is just the kind of distraction he needed – good, ol'fashioned man-to-man club business. No talk of parties, kids, decorating, feelings or some little stiff ass thinking she can bend the rules by demanding the meaning behind every move he made - and who was no doubt regretting her decision by trying to get back into his good graces by being some kind of club informant.

Their formation passed the van containing Phil and Rat as they came upon the flat, non-descript structure with a full dumpster in the driveway and several bikes parked alongside it. Tig literally counted seconds before four guys emerged from the clubhouse at the sound of other motorcycles pulling up – hands either positioned inside their cuts or behind their backs, signaling they might be going for weapons.

"Whoa." Jax dismounted, holding both hands up. "We come in peace, bro."

Sleeper was the first one to advance, his hand moving slightly away. "Don't look too peaceful to me – bro."

Still in surrender mode, Jax grinned and cocked his head. "Just wanna talk. Got a sec or two?"

Scanning the three men positioned closely behind Jax, he motioned behind the dumpster. "Just you – alone. Behind here."

"In plain sight," Happy corrected.

Jax jerked his head down the street – knowing Sleeper would be unaware of Phil and Rat in the van. "Let's take a walk."

Getting okays from his own three guys, Sleeper followed Jax past the fence surrounding their clubhouse to a vacant lot which cushioned it, stopping to where they were far enough out of earshot, but still in visual range. "What can I do for you….?" Sleeper paused.

"Jax."

"Sleeper."

Jax eyed the name sewed onto his cut. "So I see. Got a name your mama gave ya?" Jax knew it - he just wanted to see if Sleeper would fess it up.

"Only name you need to know – for now."

"Fair enough. What brings ya to Charmin'?"

"Thought this was Lodi."

Jax shook his head. "Barely. That lake crosses through both towns. Your clubhouse – too close to the border."

Pulling a pack of cigarettes out, Sleeper shook it until one popped out and took the filter between his lips. "That a problem?"

Jax gave him a look. "C'mon, man. You know what I'm talkin' about. You set up shop in the vicinity of another MC without proper notice. Ain't just us – but we got a brother club in Lodi who ain't gonna be too happy."

Sleeper took a drag off his cigarette. "Yet you found out about us before they did."

"Our reach is a little more extensive," Jax told him. "Of course, if you did your due diligence, you'dve known that."

Again, Sleeper snorted sarcastically – a move which flared Jax's nostrils in an attempt to quell the boiling need to deck this douche. Halfway through his cigarette, he dropped it to the sidewalk and crushed it under his boot. "Fine. I concede. But, clubhouse is almost done and we're gonna be movin' our shit in soon. Can't make us move."

Now it was Jax's turn to make a sarcastic sound. "Again, if you went through the proper channels you'd know The Sons can do whatever the fuck we need to. But I'll let this slide."

"Appreciate it."

"On one condition. Whatever your business is – Charmin' ain't your connectin' rod. You got shit to tend to south of here, you end around us. I don't want to see the Gate Keepers filing through my town."

"_Your_ town?"

On a woman it worked wonders, but with the enemy Jax's outward charm was meant to diffuse a possibly volatile situation. "Considerin' how many cookie jars are hands are currently dipped into - yeah," Jax said with a sweet smile. "Not to mention we got eighteen outta state brothers comin' in this weekend."

Nothing puts the lid on a situation like making a point of being outnumbered, and Sleeper's thoughtful pause told Jax he was considering just that. "Okay. Deal."

Looking somewhat impressed, Jax nodded. "A'ight. Cool. Appreciate your time."

Heading back, Tig was halfway towards meeting Jax on the sidewalk– the former sergeant in him still finding old habits hard to break. But the current sergeant paid no mind in doing his job as he pulled in front of Tig to get to Jax first. "Well?"

"Easier than I thought," Jax replied.

Hap just raised an eyebrow to which Tig verbalized. "Too easy?"

"Definitely."


	7. Chapter 7

**Lots going on and several POV switches, but I think it flows okay and not confusing. These kind of chapters are hard to write rather than one between people.**

**The 'surprise' is for Tellatrix who made a request of me. I hope this little glimpse satisfies.**

**Oh and in case you're bored, I went ahead and set up a twitter account HappysHitwoman – something to network with other authors and peeps about writing and…..stuff, separate from my business accounts. **

**Okay, I'll stop blabbing now. As always, I love your thoughts.**

**Chapter 7**

**Sunday – August 25th**

Steaming chafing dishes emanating delicious aromas covered two long, rectangular tables in the clubhouse. Smiles, cheers, men hugging, women kissing cheeks, kids trying to find their place among the adults and two dogs wisely keeping away from the middle of the madness was the framework of a thankfully mild late-August day which barely made it past eighty degrees.

Preferring the semi-containment of the clubhouse's interior rather than flow out onto the patio to enjoy the comfortable weather, Daisy did her best to avoid any direct contact with anyone whom she didn't recognized. Resplendent in lemon yellow chiffon, broken-in oyster-toned shoes and matching clutch, Daisy stuck close to Rafe who looked perfectly seasonable in monochrome beige. After politely introducing him to Tara and Eve, she pulled him out of the way as questionably dressed women hurried about.

"Seems the help forgot to check the full length mirror this morning," Rafe hmphed.

"It was probably on the ceiling," Daisy replied, covering a smirk with the back of her fingers.

Rafe flashed her a brazen look. "Retract those claws, missy."

"I didn't mean it that way. Their porn stars, so their mirrors are most likely on the ceiling."

Checking out a deeply tanned, black-haired girl whose implants probably weighed more than she did, Rafe shuddered. Although way more out of his element than Daisy inside the private domain of one percenters, Rafe seemed to be taking it all in stride. "Hope you got a vial of smelling salts in that fierce clutch of yours," he quietly mused as his eyes took in the scene around him, "because there's no telling when I may swoon."

Giving him a look, Daisy gently nudged him with her elbow. "Dial it back, Rafe, I told you these guys will lock you in a trunk if they think you've got them on your gay-dar."

He gently nudged back. "I know that, Daisy doll. I'm kidding."

She instantly went pale. "What did you say?"

"I said I'm kidding…."

"No…..what you called me?"

"What? Daisy doll? Though it was….."

"Don't." Her tone was short, which she immediately regretted. "I'm sorry. It's just….." _That's what the disgusting biker who goes out of his way to pretend I don't exist in public calls me._

"Hmmm," Rafe surmised. "I'm guessing that little nickname's a favorite of a _certain_ someone?" Sheesh! Rafe never met him and even he saw right through. "Just loosen up, sweetie. Don't be so tense – that dress won't flow well when you walk."

"I'm trying," she looked around with skeptical eyes. "I just….can't help it. I feel so out of place right now. Whenever I came here before, it was just their own members and I always stuck by Amanda. I can't do that today. Today is for her and her son."

"For which you're the God-mama," he reminded her.

"Oh, it isn't a formal baptism," Daisy corrected him. Even as she said that, the guest of honor in the arms of her best friend came over. "You just get here?" Daisy asked.

"Will's getting a head start on being fashionably late," Amanda mused. "Spit up half his bottle this morning, cried for almost fifteen minutes straight after that then waited until I got his outfit on before he puked all over it. Which is why we're in a durable, washable onesie. So, um…..everything…..okay?"

"Fine." What else was Daisy going to say? "Introduced Rafe to Eve and Tara. Gonna hold off on Gemma," she turned to Rafe, "you may need more alcohol and a whip for that."

"Oooh," he replied. "Right combo, wrong sex sweetie."

"Don't worry - Gemma knows who you are and that I invited you so you're half-prepared."

They were interrupted by a roar of cheers from outside, causing everyone inside to head towards the door. In through the crowd, Happy walked in, his eyes scanning like a big cat until they spotted his wife and son. "Amanda. C'mere."

"Later," she told her friends and departed.

Daisy suddenly felt lost again amongst the sea of people, even as her own eyes darted around the room in search of that distinct face attached to a pair of vivid blue eyes. A CaraCara girl came by with a tray of filled wine-glasses to offer to the ladies who didn't indulge in the hard drinking. That also included Rafe, who pulled two glasses off the tray by their stems

"It isn't even noon yet," Daisy said.

"Here," he said, handing her one then offering her a comforting hug. "I think you'll need the head start."

~A~

He was gonna kill her. In front of everyone here, women and children, Tig was gonna kill the little stiff-assed bitch.

What the hell did she think she was doing and who was that little piece of beige shit hanging on her? He didn't care she walked out on him a week ago with an ultimatum – she wouldn't dare test him by having the audacity to bring a date here. To a club function.

Where everyone practically knew about the two of them anyway.

Tig had stayed outside long enough after his arrival to greet his out of town brothers with several late, morning shots delivered by a pair of lips, tits and legs wrapped in something bordering on obscene. Only the need to take a piss brought him indoors – unable to avoid the sight of a pale, yellow dress wrapped around one Daisy McKay. And the damned, little fucker with his hands on her. Shit, this was the reason he didn't want her at these things. He didn't want to feel the need to enforce his rules in a roomful of people.

Rules which obviously no longer applied to her.

"Save your strength, darlin'."

Gemma had this uncanny ability to sneak up like a ninja even before the stream of smoke from her cigarette reached him. "What?"

Wispy bangs flipped with a jerk of her head towards Tig's line of vision. "The little stiff ass' ….um….date."

Acknowledging he cared would be proving that he…cared. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Taking a drag, she casually motioned to them again. "That's the little fairy princess who works at Amanda's store. He and Daisy….hit it off. You know, couture and shit."

Tig scrunched his face up. "He's gay?"

Stepping back, Gemma gave him an audacious look. "You _can't_ tell? Tigger, his cuticles are in better shape than mine."

"Yeah, a'ight, whatever." He did his best to sound unaffected, then capped it off with a shrug. "Bitch can do what she wants."

Heading towards the bathroom, regretted those six words.

~A~

Clay's surprise for Hap and Amanda came in the form of a big, burly Nomad president.

"Hap, my man." Quinn kept a tight grip onto his former enforcer who had left to transfer into the mother charter. "Look at you," he finally pulled away. "Sergeant. Married. Kid. What the fuck's in the water here?" His question was answered when a lovely brunette with brilliant blue eyes holding a thankfully sleeping baby came up to them. "Forget that, bro. Think my question just got answered. These them?"

Hap nodded. "Amanda, this is Quinn. Nomad prez. Rolled with him for a year on the road before comin' here."

"Pleasure," Quinn replied, before smiling at the baby. "No way did you have a hand in this, Killer."

Amanda held the baby up for a closer look. "Take a look at his face?"

"Shit," Quinn murmured low. "Never thought you'd be doin' this family thing. Looks like it agrees with ya."

"Yeah." Was all Happy stated. "This is a great surprise, Quinn."

"Oh, I'm not the surprise. It's what I'm here for." He reached inside his cut and pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it. "Check it, bro. Bonafide minister. Online certified."

Happy broke out in a laugh and backed up. "Shut the fuck up? You? A….._priest_?"

"Yeah. Brought my robe and collar to go under my cut. Nah, just means I can perform certain ceremonies like wedding's and…baptisms."

"You ain't sayin'?" Hap asked.

"Yep. Gonna anoint this kid of yours the Sons way."

**~A~**

Calm and cool in lemon yellow with a roomful of eyes on her, Daisy carefully held little William Clarence Lowman in her arms. To her left, Bobby was every inch proud the God-papa as Quinn spouted off some words which weren't exactly biblical. The parents stood off to the other side beaming proudly – not to mention hoping their son would continue to sleep through it all.

In the audience, Tig watched her. The little stiff-ass found a way to endear herself to his club. He'll never forget the first time he saw her – entering Amanda's store as he waited in front on his bike. He barely said so much as 'boo' to her and she acted as if she saw a demon. Now look at her. Fuck a bitch good and hard for five months and she thinks she can handle anything.

"I could get it up for some of that sunshine."

Behind him, the Portland secretary's comment had a lewd meaning behind it as he was referring to Daisy – or moreso, the color of her dress. And Tig couldn't do a damn thing about it unless he was prepared to stake a claim. He may not have the rank anymore, but this was _his _home. "Hey," he turned around and whispered low and dangerous. "Show some respect, bro. She's the baby's God-mother, not some fuckin' croweater."

That's it. As soon as this damn ceremony was over, he was gonna find a way to get Daisy alone and tear into that tight ass of hers – and not in a good way! She wants to play games, whatever – but if she thinks sticking by some little queer all day is gonna keep meat hooks off her, she had another thing coming. Shit, shit, shit! Again, this was what he wanted to avoid. Unless he gave into her new rule and acknowledged what they'd been doing undercover for the last five months.

_"bitches have a way of gettin' what they want. Think she's gonna wanna be your late night piece of ass the rest of her life_?"

A loud wail interrupted his thoughts as Will let out an ear piercing scream as Quinn poured water from a flask over his little head. For all Tig knew, it was probably vodka.

**~A~**

Nothing quieted a party filled with raucous men like a heaping plate of food. Guests scattered about, outside and in, now indulging in the calmness of the afternoon and the company of family, brothers and assorted business aquaintenaces who filtered in and out over the initial revelry.

But nothing caused pin-drop silence from a bunch of bikers on a Sunday afternoon like the sight of a squad car.

Normally, it would be a cause to get their guard up, but a steady stream of legitimate business and staying well under the radar gave no cause for concern. Jax and Happy broke away from their guests only to be waived back. "Don't worry – go enjoy." Sans his cut, Clay opted for civilian-wear today. Although respectfully retired, it was his way of punctuating Jax was now in charge. But when it came to the man behind the wheel of the squad car, Clay felt an odd connection. "Lieutenant."

He had once looked comfortable whenever he pulled into this lot, but now Ezra James Phillips had an extra pairs of eyes on him which made him look a bit out of that comfort zone. "Mister Morrow," he replied with that natural, southern politeness. "Nice afternoon for a…." he scanned around at the mass of leather, clad bodies, "get-together."

"Party for my grandson."

Phillips held a wrapped item in his hands. "Yes, I know."

"Sorry no invite," Clay immediately said. "But you know, Sons…..cops….."

"No explanation needed. Have a little something for the parents."

Calling Hap over, he took the offering from Phillips and ripped the paper off, gazing at the words on the plaque. _Train __up__a__child__ in the way he should go: __a__nd when he is old, he will not depart from it."_

"Proverbs chapter twenty two, verse six." Phillips filled in. "Though I have a feeling that child may be trained up a different way."

A raised brow was all Hap offered along with a nod of thanks. Alone with the club's former head, Phillips looked him up and down. "Looks like retirement agrees with you."

"Then you need glasses, lieutenant."

**~A~**

"Okay, fess time." Rafe seductively licked chocolate buttercream frosting from his fork. "Which one?"

With no appetite for cake herself, Daisy knew exactly what he meant. She just wondered what took him so long to ask. "Rafe, I can't."

"Come _on_, sweetie. I mean, I love girl talk as much as the next gay man, but listening to Lyla and Eve talk about pre-schools, head lice and chicken pox is making me feel all….ick. Let me at least guess."

The selection would have to be narrowed down to the Redwood guys, but Rafe would have to get close enough to see the patch on the front of their cuts. And that was going to be too close for any of them. "Eat your cake," she chided.

"I can't," he half-pouted, looking at the licked fork. "Makes me think of Carlos. I miss him."

"He'll be back tonight so you'll need the sugar."

"Oooh, you bad girl," he quietly said, thankfully resisting the urge to squeal.

Bad girl. If only he knew the extent of the sexual activity her and Tig indulged in. She may as well toss on a tube top, spandex shorts and strut around with the CaraCara girls. She was successful avoiding eye contact, but no more. He was in the room. She knew it. Directly across fromher, slouched at the bar, shooting electric blue laser beams at her. Her cool façade caved as her skin suddenly became flush even with the mild breeze blowing in through the open door, swirling around the delicate chiffon of her dress.

Unable to contain the agony, she looked up. Sure enough, there he was, looking at her as if he wanted to tear her to pieces and feed her to the vultures. He looked pissed. No, he looked furious. As much as her insides dropped over that look, she reminded herself that _she_ was the one who should be pissed – letting her walk out without so much an attempt to stop her.

_Fine. Sit there, drink and stew. I did nothing wrong,_ she told herself. She came here with a gay man, sat with the ladies and avoided any direct confrontation. He was off the hook from any responsibility because she made it easy for him. _Stupid_, told herself. _Why am I still enabling him?_

Her warm skin was in need of cool water. "Bathroom," she said, standing up and escaping before Rafe could offer any kind of retort. But his eyes followed Daisy past a wall full of mugshots until she disappeared around it. Only for a freak with crazy blue eyes to follow close behind.

"Busted," he said to himself

~A~

Standing inside the doorway of a dorm room next to the bathroom, Tig waited. Waited for the bathroom door to open and Daisy McKay to step out all cool, confident and unaffected.

Wait till he got through with her.

A turn and a click was followed by a flutter of yellow and then a sucked in gasp as he grabbed her wrist. "Shut up," he said, yanking her towards him. "Inside."

He kicked her dropped purse inside as he slammed and locked the door, watching her stumble for her balance. "Are you crazy?"

Tilting his head, he gave her a curious stare. "You don't know that answer by now, doll?" He slowly closed the gap between them, his eyes fixed in an eerie stare on her. "What the fuck do you think you're doin'"

"Tig, let me out of here. This isn't the time nor the place….."

"So, what're you a fag-hag now?"

A hand rested upon a slender hip and stared daggers right back. "As I've always said, I've forgotten how charming you can be. To answer your question, I'm enjoying the party with my _friend_."

"You're making a fool of yourself, Daze."

Her mouth dropped open. "How the hell am I doing that? I'm staying out of everyone's way – _yours_ especially – and keeping near…..the girls. You know – making it easy for _you_. Why, I have no idea."

He put a finger under he chin before clipping it with his thumb. "You know exactly why."

She shook her head against his hand. "Not after last Saturday night. Your rules for …_us_ don't apply anymore. I told you what I wanted from you which isn't much considering what some women can demand after five months." She pulled away and stepped back, those damn hazel eyes of hers all fiery and wild. "And you just let me walk nor have I heard from you since, so don't you _dare_ try to enforce something that doesn't exist anymore."

Daisy could step back all she wanted – no way in hell was she gonna escape as he just continued to close in on her. "Since when did you become such a mouthy, little bitch?"

A pair of bare shoulders shrugged as she didn't back down. "Never was one until now. You do the math."

Putting hands on his own hips, Tig had to laugh. His little Daisy had some hidden thorns. It made him want to strangle and fuck her at the same time. But that laugh suddenly dulled when he realized what he just thought.

_His_ little Daisy.

_"bitches have a way of gettin' what they want"_

"You want, you want, you want," he repeated. "That's all bitches do, they want, they demand, you give and then they screw with your shit. I ain't goin' through that all over again."

"Again?"

_Shit, shut up man_, he told himself. _Don't give her any ammunition_. "Forget it."

"Tig?"

"I said forget it!"

"Fine." She bent down, retrieved her purse, straightened up and went for the door. "We're done then."

"Aw, no, doll-face," he caught her, spinning her around. "We ain't done until I say we're done."

She tugged hard, only for light, pink marks to develop on her arm. "Let me go, Tig."

The tugging continued. "Don't fight me."

"You're hurting me."

"Then don't fight me."

There it was. That look in her eyes. He saw it twice – the first time she tried to slap him across the face and the second time when she actually succeeded. He was already two steps ahead of her. "Don't even think about smackin' me else you'll be walkin' outta here with more than just fingerprints on your arm."

She paled, lighter than the shade of her dress. The look kicked him in the gut and made him release her. She didn't bolt for the door, but just stood there, shaking her head back and forth. "Who made you this way?"

It was barely a whisper, but he heard it as if she shouted it. "You wanna cure me? You and every other bitch who came before you?"

She lowered her eyes and went for the doorknob. "Nevermind. I have to get back." The door opened before the flat of his hand came up behind her and slammed it shut. "Tig, stop…!"

He shut her up by spinning her around, flattening her against the door and himself against her, capturing her mouth with his. What the fuck was this prissy little bitch doing to him?

_"bitches have a way of gettin' what they want."_

Not until he got what _he_ wanted.

"Tig," she was breathless, tearing her mouth away for a moment to say his name only for that breath to be stolen again.

"Why do you piss me off, Daze?" He spoke that question into her mouth as his hand went up one of those crazy-long legs of hers until a bit of chiffon tickled his hand. Higher, higher, higher his hand climbed as his body kept her trapped while his mouth kept her quiet. She fought, but not much, just as he figured. No way she was gonna resist what she'd gone without after five straight months of it. And as she read his mind, he hands gripped the edges of his cut, pulling him in her struggle. She wasn't fooling anyone – him especially.

His hand slid down to the back of her knee, pulling her leg up and anchoring it to his body. Shit, he loved having her like this, trapped and loving every minute of it no matter how much she seemed to protest. Her sweet little sigh inside his mouth just confirmed it.

"That's it doll," he told her, pulling her towards the bed. This was all he needed to do. Make her compliant, kiss her, whisper not-so-sweet nothings then give her a healthy dose of his stiff cock to remind of what she was missing. Then she'd forget all about her little game and silly rules of her own and pick up where they left off. Perfect. Case closed.

And he was close to snapping it shut when he dropped her on the bed, ready to make his point when sounds from the parking lot stilled him. Crackling sounds like…..

Gunfire.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hope this goes through with all FF-email alert monster lurking.**

**I'm 99% certain I can wrap this up in two more plus an epilogue. I...must.**

**Enjoy & review!**

**~/~**

**Chapter 8**

"_Fireworks?_ Those were _fireworks?"_

Jax was beside himself as a crowd gathered around the charred remains of the single-fuse paper poppers on the pavement directly inside the fence.

"Back away." Not looking as if he cared about the swarm of bikers behind him, Lieutenant Phillips knelt down and examined the remains before straightening up and looking over the fence. "Had to be tossed over from the sidewalk for them to land here." He looked over to where a young hang-around was sitting on the ground with Tara holding a cold compress to his slightly-burned face. "You see or hear anything?"

The kid glanced up as Tara stood, taking the cool cloth away from his red and raw cheek. "Me and him," nodding to another guy, "just leaning against the fence having a smoke. Heard footsteps – two, maybe three people – running down the sidewalk on the other side. Then I just remember sharp, exploding noises after that. Got too close."

"Need to get to the hospital son?"

"He's fine." Jax answered for the kid, pushing his way into Phillips' face. "We need to figure out who did this….."

"_We?"_

That flared-nostril look which Jax seemed to revert to when someone contradicted him took over his face. "Lieutenant….?"

"There is no _we_ in this equation, Mister Teller."

"Uh-uh," Jax replied, shaking his head. "This happened in _my _house. What if it just wasn't him," jerking his head to the burned guy," who got hurt? They're _kids_ here, Lieutenant. Babies. Mine….Hap's…."

"I know." Phillips cut off his tantrum before it escalated. "And it will get handled."

"How?"

These weren't just normal, ordinary citizens. These were outlaws who didn't take 'no' for an answer too well. Nor did Jax seem to look as if this were a normal, ordinary random stunt. "We're talking about a possible teenage prank here," Phillips stated, getting the expression out of Jax he wanted. "Or….are we?"

Eyeing Bobby then Hap, Jax looked back at Phillips. "Not sure."

Folding his arms, Phillips walked in closer. "Mister Teller, if there's someone you suspect now's the time to share."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then let me remind you of the chain of command in this town. If this was done with malicious intent, then it's criminal. Criminal activity is investigated by law enforcement and seeing how I'm wearing the badge that would be me. So if you have suspicions about a possible perp, then I suggest you tell me."

That look of trust was border-line. Yeah, Phillips was a cop originally brought in here by former Mayor Hale a year and a half ago to run the Sons out of town. Instead he wound up assisting in the removal of one of his officers, the_ permanent_ removal of the zoning commissioner and the exiling of Jacob Hale not to mention single-handedly quashed a possible war with an Oakland street king. Still, he was a cop who liked the recent quiet and wanted everything on the up and up.

Yeah things were quiet. Too quiet, Jax thought, and his men had behaved well enough these last few months that they deserved to blow off a little steam. "Nothin', Lieutenant," Jax said. "Like you said – probably just a prank." He then looked at Tara. "He gonna be okay?"

"Like a really bad sunburn," she answered her husband. "It'll sting, get itchy and peel, but he'll be fine."

Nodding he looked at Phillips and smiled. "Then I guess we're fine. Thanks for stoppin' by and stayin' for this. Appreciate it."

Phillips knew that was his polite cue to leave as he walked to his squad car. "If you change your mind…"

"…we won't."

Once Phillips pulled out through the small opening of the gate, Jax pulled Tara over. "Tell ma to get the cleanup started. Then take the kids and go home."

Nodding a silent understanding, she left as Jax waived over Juice. "Everything's pretty much done," he told his men still behind him as Juice stepped forward. "Party's over – and most of the out-of-towners need to be on the road anyway. Tell the women to take the kids and go home."

"A'ight." Juice gave a salute then trotted off.

"You thinkin'….." Hap began.

"Gate Keepers? Yeah. I do." He then noticed Tig standing behind everyone looking as if he were late to the party. "Where the hell were you?"

"Takin' a piss."

"Must've been some piss."

**~A~**

It took a while to calm herself down, straighten out her dress and make sure every hair was in place until Daisy was ready to exit the dorm room and back into the crowd of people. She was just thankful it didn't get as far as it almost did – that the noise which freaked Tig out halted their heated activity. Now she was alone and absolutely ashamed of herself as she walked out on slightly-shaky legs – only to find the clubhouse in a state of cleaning up and clearing out.

"Where've you been?" Rafe had zoned in on her as soon as she appeared, his eyes going right to the light, pink marks on her arm. "Um…sweetie. What happened?"

Rubbing the spot briskly, she shook her head. "Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing…."

"What's going on?" She was quick to change the subject as the last thing she wanted to explain to Rafe was her almost shameful, Sunday afternoon-delight. "Why's everyone leaving?"

"That luscious, little Latino came in and announced the party was over. Very impolite and uncouth, but….whatever. Especially want the women and children to go so…..guess that's our cue. Not sure why. Just a bunch of fireworks went off outside. No need to press the panic button."

_Not when it comes to these guys,_ Daisy wanted to say, but kept her mouth shut. If a hair was out of place, they'd think something was wrong. Something happened, something that had to do with these fireworks caused this mass exodus.

"Daisy!" Amanda walked over with Will all tucked snugly and sleepy in his seat. "You okay? Where were you?"

_I could fool Rafe, but not my best friend_, Daisy remembered. She crossed her arms so that the clutch in her other hand covered the finger marks on her arm. "Bathroom. Was really warm. Felt a little faint and….nauseous. Splashed some cold water on my face and waited for it to pass. What happened outside?"

"Someone tossed a bunch of lit fireworks over the fence. A hang-around got his face burned. If any of the kids were running around near there…..l"

"Oh my God," Daisy exclaimed.

"Cake's done and a lot of the guests have to get going anyway. Hap'll probably hang here for a while." She eyed Daisy and Rafe. "You two want to come to the house for coffee?"

"No." Daisy's reply was quick and sharp. "I…can't. It's Sunday and you know what that means – a week's worth of wardrobe planning."

"And Carlos is coming back tonight," Rafe answered. "Let me go get my suit jacket and we'll get out of here sweetie."

"Amanda!" From the doorway, Hap's voice boomed loud and clear, yet the jarring sound didn't stir little Will one bit. "I want ya outta here. Now!"

Alone, Amanda leaned into Daisy before leaving. "I think it's more than fireworks."

Whatever it was, Daisy was glad for it as she could think of nothing she wanted to do more right now was take a warm soak, curl up in her mint-green robe with a cup of cinnamon tea and strengthen her resolve. Tig wasn't going to break her ever again.

**~A~**

A thick, Spanish accent wasn't too please. "_Idiota! What were you thinking? First you ride through their town and now this? I am not paying you bunch of gringos to act sloppy."_

"Too late," Sleeper said into his cell. "They already know we're here."

"_Then I suggest you pull back so they forget. We need to know what they're up to and it's your job to find out – quietly. Comprende?"_

"Far as we know, they're strictly legit now," Sleeper told the caller. "If they got any off-the-books shit goin' on, they're coverin' it up real well."

"_These Sons can't be completely on the up-and-up. Albuquerque certainly wasn't."_

As much as Sleeper tried not to be intimidated, his club's new employer had a way of making him uneasy. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to look out for his men. "Thought you made a deal with Redwood?"

"_The deal was between my father and Clay Morrow. Now that he's stepped down, this deal is null and void. But I want no bloodshed, which is why I need you to find out something that'll put them away for at least twenty."_

How the hell was Sleeper going to dig deep enough into a club far more advanced than his own, and likely more experienced with keeping outlaw activity tightly underwraps? He'd need more than just moving within pissing distance of them and tossing fireworks into their clubhouse to incite them to come out guns blazing. He needed someone else. Someone who may have heard things, but not too close that they'd put loyalty above giving up the goods. "I'll think of something."

"_Don't think, amigo. Do. At least take a page from their book and act smart. And moving your crew too close to Redwood territory wasn't exactly that. Was only a matter of time before they found out."_

They'd been working on the Gate Keeper's new clubhouse for the past month and a half and no one was alerted to their presence – not even the Sons. Funny, it was only after securing that storage unit that…

"I'll take care of it." Snapping his cell closed, Sleeper formulated a plan.

**~A~**

**Two Days Later**

**Tuesday, August 27, 2013**

"Anything?"

Crouching down in the parking lot, Opie inspected the fireworks remains, having seen many of them in his day, as Tig stood behind his shoulder. "Can make out a manufacturer, but that don't mean shit. Can get these online. Gonna be hard tracin' these back to a buyer."

Scratching the back of his neck, Tig straightened up and went back to the garage. Shit, maybe it was just an asshole prank. As much as he'd love to kick some Gate Keeper ass, the club had nothing on them. He'd have to find another way to channel his frustration and, right now it had to be ripping a caved in fender off an almost totaled jeep.

"Easy there, caveman."

From the connecting doorway, Tig followed the sound of Gemma's voice who was looking at him rather peculiar. Pulling out his pack of cigarettes, he decided to give up on the fender and kick back with a smoke. "Sorry."

"C'mere." Gemma's slender, well-manicured nail crooked at him.

Crossing into the office, he leaned against the doorway. "What?"

She pointed to a chair. "Sit."

The only woman who could truly boss him around and get away with it, he did as he was told. "I'm sitting." One ankle crossed over the other knee, Tig dragged long on his cigarette.

Gemma matched his stance, lighting her own smoke, legs crossed knee over knee. "Talk to me."

Bossing him around was one thing – getting him to open up was another. "'bout?"

Blowing a smooth, cloud of smoke she shrugged. "Whatever you force yourself _not _to talk about."

He let his hands fall hard on his lap. "Really, Gem? Now?"

"That fender ain't coming off, it's too early for lunch and there isn't enough interesting pussy hanging around outside to tempt you in. So….talk."

"Clay too deep into afternoon television to indulge ya?"

"He knows less than I do – and_ I'm_ still here." Another drag followed a look up at the ceiling. "Things truly _have_ changed. _We've_ changed."

"You don't give up, do ya?"

"Meaning?"

"Didn't we talk enough about this_ change_ shit?"

"Fine." Her voice was sharp and curt. "Want me to_ change_ the subject?"

"Please."

"Hear from the stiff ass?"

His head leaned back, hitting hard against the wall to where Tig just wanted to slam himself unconscious. "Can we go back to talkin' about my feelin's?"

"Knock yourself out," Gemma replied. "But one has to do with the other."

"Quinn was right," he said. "Somethin' is definitely in the water here."

Allowing herself a smile, Gemma shook her head in wonder at him. "How old are you, Tigger?"

"Right up there with ya, ma."

Gemma snorted. "Asshole. But at least I'm not fighting what I can't win."

"What, you and Clay startin' some post-retirement therapy group for the over fifty crowd? I'm_ fine_, Gem."

Again, she snorted. "Don't give me that _fine_, shit. It's me you're talking to, remember? You're not_ fine_, Tig. Know why? Because you're fighting – fighting not to give a shit about the little stiff ass. If you didn't you wouldn't have given two and half shits if…Quinn dragged her into a broom closet and slammed her into next Saturday, let alone got your dick in a twist over some little queen pretending to be her date. But, then again" she paused, dousing out her cigarette in the ashtray, "she wouldn't have gone to all that trouble if you just…"

"…..acknowledged her?"

Gemma had that '_why not?'_ look on her face. "You two playing sneaky house after dark isn't a secret anymore. So, why're you still fighting it?"

_Why?_ He hated questions he didn't want to answer. Couldn't answer. If anyone should already know _why_, it's Gemma. "How long you know me, Gem? You really gotta ask that?"

"And like I said before - _we_ change."

An uneasy feeling came over him as memories long buried were suddenly resurrected. "Can't change the past."

"What? Colleen…..?"

"Before." The one word answer was enough.

Leaning back in her chair, Gemma picked up a pen and clicked it open and closed. "That's just proof of the man you can be – not the one you wound up becoming. So you had a bad marriage and two kids who surface only when they need something. Things are good now, Tig – after a lot of bad. You're not my old man's pit bull anymore so it's okay to let go when you roll out of here at the end of the day. I'm not saying you gotta settle down with brats and a farmhouse – just….settle _in_." Standing up, she walked over to him and gently held the side of his head. And not just with a dog."

Tig watched her walk out, leaving him alone with more to think of than he was originally trying to forget. What if he was fighting a losing battle? What if he could have a future without his past interfering? What if he could bend the rules a bit for a woman he's given more of his after-hours time to in the twenty years?

It was never supposed to be this way. Daisy was never even supposed to be a blip on his radar. After going to see her at the farm last July to give her a proper apology for all his assholeness, he told her to '_stay good'._ She was the one thing he encountered he hadn't yet tainted. But two months after that, after his stupidity nearly got Hap's wife killed, after the tip of his knife carefully nipped the threads of his sergeant's patch and laid it on the table before Jax, he wound up on Daisy's doorstep and all thoughts of her _staying good_ went out the window.

He never could shake the little stiff ass after that – even when she sported a big, fat engagement ring from someone else. But her poor judgement in future-husband selection made Tig realize that she wasn't so perfect. She had flaws. She had a past she wasn't proud of. She had ink on her lower back from some college dude who talked into making those films. And she hid it all behind a wardrobe which he saw right through. He knew too much about her – inside and out. He couldn't remember the last woman who remained in his presence long enough for him to even remember a first and, if they were lucky, last name. His cut was the outside symbol of respectability which covered the damage of his past – much like Daisy's fancy clothes.

Maybe they weren't so different after all. Maybe he should give up the fight. Maybe he could bend the rules and treat this woman better than a club whore.

Maybe he needs to curse everyone around him for messing with his shit.

**~A~**

**Next Day**

"_There's no way I'm gonna get a cheap flight the week before Labor Day."_ Daisy murmured to herself as she sat behind her desk on at noon on a quiet Wednesday searching Travelocity. She decided the best thing she needed right now was to get away. Go home to Connecticut and give her parents a much, long, overdue visit. Compared to what was going on in her life here, it was definitely the lesser of the two evils.

She saved a bunch of airline links and emailed them to herself to peruse later at home. Even though it was slow with people gearing up for the last, long holiday weekend of the summer, she felt guilty goofing off on the job. With Mister Oswald spending more and more time at city hall and most of his construction projects finishing up, the farm was left in her capable hands. She was trusted. She wouldn't let her boss down. She already let herself down.

Three days and not a peep from…..him. Not that she expected it. Well, maybe she did. Even if it were a surprise visit here only so she could give him a piece of her mind and blame the wine for her behavior on Sunday – even though it was a lie. Still, she didn't want that day ending with Tig thinking he had the upper hand by turning her to a pile of pre-orgasmic mush.

Her cell rang in her purse, knowing it could be one of three people. As much as she hoped it was Tig or needed Rafe's no-nonsense encouragement, Daisy couldn't be happier when her best friend's number displayed. "Amanda – hi."

"_Hey, busy?"_

"Nope. It's dead here."

"_I'm finishing up morning paperwork at the store. How about I grab us some lunch and take a ride down?"_

Other than taking the ball out of Tig's court, Daisy couldn't think of anything better she'd like right now. "Perfect. You bringing the baby?"

"_Nope. Alyda's watching him and Thomas at Tara's while Abel's in daycare. Need to pick him up by two. Gives us a couple of hours."_

"Come on down." Daisy said delightedly before hanging up, only to have her hopes for extended quiet time interrupted when the door opened. First it was Poland Spring with the water delivery, then it was one of _the mothers_ insisting that her daughter's riding lesson be switched from mid-day to three pm due to risk of high SPF exposure. Then if that wasn't enough, Francisco came in reporting a broken tractor and needing to call the manufacturer for repair. Oswald's in-house landscaper was what Rafe would most definitely call a 'cutey-patootie', she snickered to herself as she looked up the number to call.

"Hey there, pretty lady."

The door opened one more time and it was one of those Gate Keepers. The young kid named LiLo, short of 'little loco'. Right now he looked a 'little lost'. "Just a minute," Daisy told him.

"I dropped my key to the unit in a pile of horse shit," he grumbled. "Need the spare."

"Let me finish up here and I'll let you in."

"Go ahead, Miss Daisy," Francisco said in a very thick, Hispanic accent. "I call from my phone."

Handing him the number and thanking him, Daisy got up and went to the filing cabinet. "What's the unit number again?"

"Fifteen," LiLo answered as he opened the door to let Francisco out.

By rule, Daisy was supposed to ask for identification and password, but since she was the one who signed up their locker there wasn't a need. Grabbing the extra key to storage unit number fifteen, she slid her cell into the back pocket of her beige capri's in case Amanda called and headed towards the door. "Let's go."

Like a lap dog, LiLo eagerly followed her while Daisy walked as if she were wearing running shoes. She had a nice, quiet morning so far and wanted more of it – not trudging through gravel and getting the heels of her smashing evergreen pumps clumped with soft grass.

A big pile of horse dung with a piece of silver sticking out of it greeting them next to the unit. "See," LiLo said, pointing to it. "I ain't stickin' my hand in that – not even for my patch."

Unlocking the unit, Daisy looked surprised. "Oh? You're a prospect?"

"Yeah." LiLo looked even more surprised. "You know about how MC's work and shit?"

"Somewhat," she answered, slipping off the lock and pulling open the door.

"Really? That's good," LiLo, said, casually looking around before giving her a harsh shove inside. "Then you'll know what to expect."


	9. Chapter 9

**Happy Easter everyone. Here's something to indulge in with no calories!**

**As I stated in a previous AN, I alluded to a situation which was in Chapter 2 of Rendezvous regarding SAMCALB and the NF gang. I went with it and was able to write myself 'out' of the corner (hopefully!)**

**Next chapter should be final and maybe combined with an epilogue if I don't do that separately.**

**Enjoy and please review. Oh, and don't eat too much chocolate today!**

**Chapter 9**

"Daisy?"

A rolled up, brown paper bag filled with their lunch, Amanda stepped into the farm's office to find it empty. Daisy's pale-blue Jag was parked outside, so she had to be around somewhere. Glancing at the clock, it was already twelve thirty and she needed to pick up Will at two. Still, she had enough time to spend with her friend, but wondered where she was.

Chalking it up new mother impatience, Amanda sat in the chair by the door, crossed her legs and waited. The quiet outside was deafening. No humming of a lawnmower, the clip-clop of horse hooves, even muffled voices of workers as they went about their day. Could be they were all at lunch, but when the only sound which kept her company for the next fifteen minutes was the second hand on the wall clock a weird feeling came over her. Ten more minutes later and actual concern kicked in. If it were anyone else, she'd chalk it up to losing track of time, but not punctual, organized and scheduled Daisy. Grabbing her phone, she tapped in Daisy's number only for it go to voice mail after four rings. Since she didn't hear the phone ring in here, wherever Daisy was she had it with her.

The door opened and a small, compact Hispanic man entered, looking startled to see Amanda. "Oh. Miss Daisy not back?"

_Back?_ "No, she isn't. I'm waiting to have lunch with her. Do you know where she went?"

Scratching his head, he looked out the window towards the stables and pointed. "Units."

Damn language barrier.

Amanda stood up and went to the window. "The storage units?"

The man nodded. "Yes."

"By herself?"

He shook his head 'no'. "Someone here. Need extra key. She had to let in."

Okay, so maybe she was with whoever she had to let in because she had to lock back up, Amanda thought to herself. Still, why didn't Daisy answer her phone. "Do you know what unit number?"

The little man looked as if he was trying to figure out Einstein's theory of relativity as his entire face scrunched up in thought. "Oh….when I leave before, hear him say…..fifteen."

"Fifteen?" Amanda repeated. "Storage unit number fifteen?"

"Yes. Yes."

She went to the door. "I'm sorry. What's your name?"

"Francisco."

"Can you take me there, Francisco?"

They both walked down the same gravel and soft dirt path with Amanda following Francisco until they came upon the unit in question – one of the old smaller stables with a front and back entrance which was converted to a storage unit. But it was locked up tight and no sign of Daisy. That weird feeling-turned slight panic now was beginning to escalate. Where the hell could she be?

"I'm calling her again." Amanda flipped the touch screen to her previous outgoing calls until she tapped the one she made to Daisy ten minutes ago. Only this time, she heard the faint sound of Daisy's old-style phone ring tone – coming from inside the unit. That feeling of concern turned to panic as Amanda began to pound on the door of the unit. "Daisy! Daisy, you in there?" When no answer nor any other sound from inside came, she turned to Francisco. "Do you have another key?"

He shook his head. "No. Man lost key. Miss Daisy bring spare."

"Man? There was a man with her?"

Francisco nodded, clearly looking freaked out by all these questions, but he was Amanda's only help. "Young….old…."

"Young. Something wrong? Something happen to Miss Daisy?"

What if she was jumping the gun? What if there was a logical reason Daisy was missing with her cell locked inside the unit? But anything Amanda tried to come up with seemed beyond logic. "I'm going back to the office," she told him. "If you spot Daisy, please come get me immediately, okay?"

"Yes, yes," Francisco nodded.

Over the grass and through the gravel, Amanda made it back to the office, hoping Daisy would be there waiting and wondering where _she_ was. But all that awaited her when she opened the door was the aroma of eggplant and chicken parm sandwiches getting cold inside the paper bag. Stepping back outside, she looked around, as far as her vision would take here. Where the hell was she? "Daisy!" Her voice carried an echo back in the quiet of the early afternoon as she wouldn't allow that panic to override quick thinking.

Heading to the filing cabinets, Amanda examined the neatly, typed labels on each drawer which Daisy had no doubt done on the computer. Of course, the one labeled 'Storage Units' was a no brainer. Inside, hanging folders with plastic tabs displaying the unit numbers swung back and forth – each containing an individual manila file folder. Amanda pulled out unit number fifteen and opened it. It was in the name of a Daniel Watson. She went through the other documents inside, including a photo of his license with the same name. Looking down at the unit's application, she saw a box which said 'Password'. In it, was the word 'sleeper'. _Sleeper?_ Why was that…?

The Gate Keepers. She remembered Daisy telling her about them renting a unit and what a jerk the president – whose name was Sleeper – was. This was their unit. The one with Daisy's cell locked inside and Daisy nowhere to be found. Could they have…would they have…?

She reached for her phone, this time calling her husband.

**~A~**

"Got something'!"

Through the half open door to his old dorm he now used as his office, Jax waved Juice in. "What is it?"

"Took the phone numbers Rat picked up on the box last week. Knew the local one was Sleeper's, but all he could get on the incoming was that it was New Mexico. Checked the prefix against cell phone providers, and its Verizon. Busted my balls breakin' through that firewall, but I got a name to go with that number – Miguel DelGado."

Jax's face tightened as the name rang a bell. "DelGado. As in the DelGado family of the Albuquerque-based La Nuestra Familia?

Juice nodded, producing another document. "Same one SAMCALB feuded with two years ago. Here's the phone records I printed off. Lots of calls to Sleeper's cell – last one was late Sunday afternoon."

"About an hour after those fireworks were tossed in our yard." Jax's voice was soft and deadly as he glanced down the list of phone calls.

"Thought we resolved the thing with the NF?" Juice asked. "They agreed not to go after any other Sons in retaliation if we got rid of the two SAMCALB members who went AWOL."

Jax got up and went to the door. "They did. That is Clay and Jorge DelGado – head of the Albuquerque NF."

Juice followed him out. "Then who's this Miguel?"

"Guessin' a relative, but I wanna know what he's doing with The Gate Keepers?"

**~A~**

Tearing into the parking lot on his bike, Happy put two fingers in his mouth and let out an ear piercing whistle. From inside, Tank came running from his doggy-daycare spot upon sensing his master's presence. "Not you," he grumbled, satisfying the attentive dog with a rough scratch of his head. Soon, humans began to spill out. Tig and Opie ran down from the garage as Jax and Juice came out of the clubhouse. Kick-standing his bike where he left it, Hap dismounted and went right up to Jax. "Got a call from Amanda. Went to the farm to have lunch with Daisy. She ain't there. Thinks she was taken."

Pushing past Ope, Tig went up to Hap. "Whadda ya mean – _taken_?"

Hap repeated the story his wife told him over the phone which made everyone step back with their guard up. Except for Tig. "Son of a bitch," he seethed quietly at first, then roughly dragged fingers through his hair and shouted. "_Son of a bitch!"_

"Why would they take her?" Opie asked. "They have no idea she's connected to the club."

"Unless they figured out she was the one who made us aware of their presence in town," Jax surmised, then looked at Hap. "Amanda still there?"

"Yeah. Told her to stay put in the office till we get there – lettin' no one in."

"Call Oswald," Jax told him. "If his employee was kidnapped, I think he needs to know about it."

Hap stepped away, opening his phone. "On it."

Behind the order, the inside of Tig's mouth began to bleed from biting down a little too hard. But he'd been silent too long – especially on the Daisy front. If this was true, if she was kidnapped by these Gate Keepers, there was no way he was going to keep that silence for long. "Jax?" he took his president's arm gently. "How we handlin' this?"

"First we gotta…"

"We gotta find her – like….._now_." Tig's insistence pretty much belied anything he tried to imply over the last five months.

"We are, Tig. We will."

He was on the verge of saying too much, but didn't care. They came back to him – all of them, visions of Donna, Veronica Pope, even Amanda when that SUV slammed into her. He saw his daughter's faces, vague imprints of what they last looked like. But more importantly, he saw….._her._ The very reason he kept himself distant from women. The reason he tightened up his heart instead of letting it go. He saw her as she spilled off his bike and into oncoming traffic, taking her life and the child she was carrying. It was before this. Before Colleen and his daughters. Before SAMCRO. But the memory was carved deeply enough for him to never forget what losing a bitch you lost yourself to can do.

But if Tig could redeem himself for all his past transgressions now was the time. If it wasn't too late, he could make things right and set himself down a new path of change. "Jax?" He almost couldn't say it even as he tried to envision what Gemma went through that horrible night when she was chained to a fence. "If they…if they're…."

"Oswald's on his way," Hap interrupted them. "What about everyone else?"

"Phil's doin' a tow," Opie chimed in.

"Bobby and Chibs are at Sutter Creek," Juice offered.

"Jax!" Tig's voice was laced with impatience and the look in his president's eyes was emphatic for once.

"Come on. Let's go."

**~A~**

The smell of new construction made Daisy's head spin. Sawdust. Paint. It made her eyes water and her lungs itch. And being cooped up in a small room didn't help.

But she remained quiet. After her initial shriek when she was shoved into the storage unit and into an idling car inside waiting to pull out the other end, she remained quiet. Even when LiLo got in the backseat with her and offered a smile before an apology, she remained quiet. And when the car stopped in front of a structure a mile or so down the road before she was escorted out, she didn't say a word. Blabbing hysterically wouldn't have done anything except aggravate these guys. If there was one thing she learned from her best friend was to have your wits about you. Stay calm. Don't say too much. Even though you have a million questions.

As long as they didn't hurt her, Daisy did just that as she was shuttled inside and into a tiny room with a chair and a desk. Immediately she paced, before realizing she had her phone, only to feel her back pocket to find it missing. Maybe it slipped out in the back seat of the car or when she was struggling to be shoved into it. Either way, her only means of communicating was gone.

The metal door opened, causing her to back against the desk. Every fiber inside of her was on edge when Sleeper walked in – all arrogance and full of some kind of pride wrapped in a leather cut. "Hello pretty lady," he said with charm that made her sick. "Or….may I call you Daisy?"

They knew her name. Something about these MC's and their knack for gathering information. Asking how they found out would be futile. That wasn't what she wanted to know anyway. "What do you want with me?"

"Relax," he said, holding his hands up. "I'm ain't gonna hurt ya. I just wanna talk."

"You had to kidnap me to talk?"

"Whoa, wait. It ain't kidnappin' if I bring ya back. Which I fully intend to do. After you and I come to an understandin'."

They wanted something from her. "About what?"

Sleeper strolled over to a wall, inspecting the newly finished sheetrock work in the window-less room. "We know it was you, Daisy. You were the one who tipped off the Sons of our being here." He then turned to look at her. "Day we came to rent the unit, I'm bettin' you called them right after we left."

How the hell did they put two and two together, Daisy thought to herself. But she played it safe, assuming they had no hard proof other than their own assumptions. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sleeper laughed. "Gonna play dumb? Next you're gonna say that you have nothing to do with that MC."

"I don't," she quickly answered. It wasn't really a lie. Being Amanda's friend and Tig's former overnight play thing didn't exactly qualify her as being 'in' with an MC.

"But, you know them, don't you?"

"I know _of _them," she corrected. "They reside in my town. You could say the same thing for anyone who lives in Charming.

"No, Daisy. I think you know more. I saw you – that day we rode down Main Street – standing on the sidewalk with that woman. You know, the former president's wife."

Daisy remembered the way Sleeper looked at her as the motorcycle procession made its way down Charming's center. "So? I was standing next to her. We were coming out of the bakery at the same time."

Sleeper leaned against the wall and folded his arms. "Are you gonna be difficult, pretty lady? Because, I got no time for difficult. We know you more than know _of_ them. After Jax Teller and his crew paid us a surprise visit, we wondered how they found out we were here so fast. And then it recently came to me – it had to be you. We had our eyes on their clubhouse Sunday afternoon. Saw everyone leaving some big shindig – and you were one of them."

Daisy was caught. She couldn't deny it anymore. She had to say something without saying too much. "One of the wives is a friend of mine. She invited me. So what?"

"So, you're friends with an old lady. You wouldn't happen to be one yourself?"

Ha! That was one thing she didn't have to lie about. "No, I'm not."

"So you have access to an old lady and can get inside their clubhouse?"

Now Daisy's concern for her well-being was replaced with aggravation. "Just tell me what it is you want with me."

"We want you to get us information."

"About what?"

"About the Sons. What they do for a living."

"They own a garage and a repo business – that's public knowledge."

Sleeper shook his head. "Uh-uh, Daisy. Not the public stuff. I wanna know what they do off the books. What they're into. Guns…..drugs….."

"What?" she asked incredulously. "I don't know anything about that."

"Then find out. We can make it worth your while."

"How? How is snooping around a club my best friend is part of going to benefit me?"

He went over to her, his eyes slowly looking over every long, tall inch of her. A hand came out as he ran his finger down her bare arm, causing her to recoil. "See how easy it was to take you from your work? You don't do this and next time we'll take you from your house – only we may decide not to bring you back."

**~A~**

Rarely did his cell ring during the day when you're a former MC president, but the sound was sweet to Clay's ears as he poured himself an afternoon cup of coffee. "Yeah?" he answered.

"We have a sitch with the Albuquerque NF," Jax said on the other end.

"There shouldn't be," Clay replied. "I personally 'stitched' that 'sitch'."

"Yeah, well the thread's unravelin'. That leg of the family is rebuilding – maybe setting up shop somewhere here."

"That's impossible. I had a deal with Jorge…."

"Who's dead. His son Miguel's takin' over – and in bed with these Gate Keepers. Think they're usin' them to get shit on us to run us out. And we think we know how they're gonna get it. They took Daisy."

"What?"

"We're on our way to the farm right now. Clay…need ya to call this Miguel and remind him what you and Jorge agreed to. Juice dug up his cell. If the Gate Keepers got Daisy, Miguel can call them off."

Clay was sure Tig was one of the pack racing to the farm. The last thing he wanted was to see an innocent female hurt – especially his daughter's best friend and grandson's god-mother. "I'll take care of it."

It was nice to be useful once in a while.

**~A~**

Tire tracks. Tire tracks inside unit number fifteen which led out the back entrance of the unit.

"That's how they got her out," Opie said, kneeling down towards the tracks, before looking around the unit. "Pushed all their stuff to the side to back the car in."

Oswald looked beside himself as he tossed the metal cutters which pried the lock off on the ground. "This is insane. Why would they take her?"

"That's what we're gonna find out," Jax said, walking back in with his phone. "I just talked to Clay. He's gonna make a call."

"In the meantime?" Hap asked.

"Here!" Slid under some stored furniture, Tig picked up an iPhone. Pressing it on, he checked the number. It was Daisy's. He wanted to punch someone – hard and….now. "It's hers."

"Can't use it to trace her with," Juice said. "They had to have taken her to their clubhouse. Right down the street practically."

"Yeah," Tig agreed. "They'd be _that_ stupid to snatch someone and take 'em to an obvious place. She's there. She's gotta be."

"A'ight, but we can just all roll up. We don't want 'em hurtin' her or sneakin' her out some back way to take her somewhere we _don't _know. We need to send someone in – get inside and case the place to see if they see or hear Daisy."

The clock was ticking, which was making Tig impatient. "Who? How? Jax, let's just,….." he stopped himself before Jax's look could do it. Brains before bullets. Action before reaction. Even if adhering to those rules meant the little stiff ass he really did care about could be in danger. For some reason, the fact that they had a good idea where she was and hopefully unharmed caused him to think clearly. "I know – the kid and the red headed cookie."

"Toby and Erin?" Opie asked.

"Yeah. She used to work at some pizza joint. Maybe she can get them to cooperate."

Jax looked impressed with Tig's cool-headedness. "You got a plan?"

"Oh, I got a plan a'ight," he walked up closer to Jax. "And if it works, if Daisy's in there, after we get 'er out, you gotta promise to let me beat this Sleeper to within an inch of his life."

Tig didn't care about Jax's smug laugh over his public confession of his feelings for Daisy. All he wanted was the go-ahead from him.

"You got yourself a deal, brother."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:**** Last Chapter. I said I'd keep it to 10, dammit and I did! Can't say what's in store for this gang down the line as**** I have another writing project already in the works. A detailed synopsis will be posted to my profile shortly. If anything they'll be 1-2 shots as the muse sees fit!**

**Again – the details Clay speaks of in his telephone conversation is derived from Chapter 2 of Rendezvous**

**Thank you all again for your tremendous support and feedback on this story. It's satisfying to finally bring closure to all the characters.**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 10**

"Who the hell is that?" The big guy called MoMan drew a gun at the pounding knock on the Gate Keeper's clubhouse door.

Angling his body towards the window so whoever it was couldn't see movement inside, LiLo's shoulder's slumped when he saw a tiny Honda with the yellow 'Pizza Delivery' sign stuck to the roof. "Pizza's here."

"I didn't order no damn pizza," MoMan said.

"Maybe Sleeper ordered it for our guest so she wouldn't starve."

"Maybe you should shut your stupid ass up." MoMan clutched his gun, wondering if he should open the door. "Could be a trap."

"What trap?" LiLo replied, getting a better look at who was outside the door. "It's a kid – in uniform with a company car and four boxes of pizza. No one else in sight."

MoMan stood behind the door, gun cocked. "Open the door slowly," he told LiLo. "See what's up. Act dumb, which shouldn't be a problem, then get rid of him."

Opening the door, LiLo was met with a kid barely out of his teens struggling with four pizza boxes. "Dude, I was totally freakin' I had the wrong place," the kid huffed out. "Been knockin' and knockin'…"

"….we didn't order pizza," LiLo cut him off.

The kid put the boxes on the ground then pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "No, no, no, dude – don't tell me that," he said, looking at the paper. "This number five twenty three?"

"It's five twenty six, dumb-ass," LiLo sassed. "Five twenty three would be across the street and, as you can see, it's all woods on that side."

The kid squeezed his eyes shut and stomped his foot. "Shit! Shit, shit, shit, I'm gonna kill those fuckers. Roommates bustin' my balls on my first day – sendin' me on a goose chase. Shit! Now I gotta pay for this."

From behind the door, MoMan, motioned to LiLo to hurry it up to which the young prospect bent down and picked up the pizza. "Well, since no one's claimin' it," he said.

"Really?" The kid said with relief. "Dude, you rock! That'll be forty two fifty."

"Never said I was payin' for it," LiLo told him.

"Wha…..?" the kid's face dropped. "Dude, c'mon!"

"That's what ya get for havin' assholes for friends," LiLo told him.

"Shit, can I at least use your bathroom?"

Again, the aggravation on MoMan's face was growing as he took matters into his own hand. Holstering his gun, he appeared from behind the door. "You can piss outside, kid."

The kid stepped back at the sight of the mountain-sized man, but didn't falter out of step. "Dude, I can't. I'm already on probation for…disorderly conduct. C'mon – you're gettin' free pizza outta it."

Taking the kid by the arm, MoMan dragged him in and towards the tiny, unfinished bathroom. "Ten seconds," he told the kid, shoving him inside and slamming the door. "I'm countin'."

"I'm goin'!" the kid called out on the other side.

"Four…..three…..two…."

The door jerked open. "I'm done, I'm done."

The sound of a door opening caused everyone, including the kid, to look in the direction of Sleeper coming out of a room and dead-bolting it from the outside. "What the hell is goin' on out here?"

"Stupid kid got scammed, that's what and we got free pizza," MoMan replied. "He was just leavin'."

Taking the kid by the scruff of the neck, Sleeper slightly shook him. "What the fuck, Mo? Why's he in here?"

"Wrong address," the kid gasped, trying to lessen the hold on his neck. "Had to piss. I'll pay for 'em. Just…..….."

"What'sa matter, shithead?" Sleeper asked the kid fighting for breath, then noticed inside his arm. "Think some ink makes you a tough guy?"

"I…just…..wanna…..breath," the kid choked out.

"_Hey!"_ A banging on the locked door was followed by another female shout. _"Hey!"_

"Outta here!" Sleeper dragged the kid to the door.

"A'ight, a'ight, I get it," the kid said, getting his breath back quickly before twinkling his eyes. "Little afternoon nookie in the back."

The door slammed in the kids face as Sleeper turned his beet red one to two of his men. "What the fuck are you doin' lettin' people in?"

"He had….." LiLo began.

"I don't give a flyin' fuck if he showed up here with hookers. We just snatched some bitch who's yellin' in the back. Fuck up one more time and your head's goin' in the toilet after I take a big-ass shit, got me – both of ya?"

**~A~**

Daisy should've known better, but when Sleeper tore out of the room upon all the commotion outside, she decided to cause a little herself in the event it was someone who could help. But instead, Sleeper was the only one who returned. "Pull that shit again, sweetheart, and that promise to bring ya back is off the table."

"I have to use the bathroom," she lied.

"You too? What the fuck is this some damn gas station?"

She gave him a pleading look to which Sleeper rolled his eyes and unlocked the door. He then took Daisy not-too-gently by the arm and tugged her out. Opening the bathroom door, he deposited her inside, closed it then leaned up against it. "Make it quick, sweetheart." MoMan then came up to him to which Sleeper asked, "What? You next?"

"Think that pizza kid was trouble?"

"Little putz looked too stupid to live, let alone be trouble. And havin' some '_Family'_ tattoo don't make some teenager a badass."

Inside, Daisy finished up with the running sink for privacy. But even through the steady flow of the faucet, she heard Sleeper loud and clear on the other side of the door. Someone was here. Some kid delivering pizza. With a tattoo which said '_Family_'. There was only one _kid_ she knew who had that. Toby.

They knew she was here.

**~A~**

Jax's cell rang not ten minutes later. "Talk to me kiddo."

"She's in there," Toby replied from where he pulled the little Honda off the side of the road. "Got 'her locked in some room. Heard her bangin' on the door and yellin'. At least, some chick's in there."

"Gotta be her. They suspect anythin'?"

"Don't think so. Tried to choke me like a chicken."

"Yet you're still alive. Stay where you are. Need ya for one more thing."

"No problemo, el presidente."

With a snort, Jax shut the phone but had Tig practically over his shoulder. "Well? What? She there?"

"She is – at least, Toby heard some chick's voice from behind some locked door." He turned to his former sergeant. "Step one's complete."

"So's step two," Hap said, walking over, phone in hand. "Just talked to T.O. They're on stand-by."

Jax nodded then turned to Opie. "Everyone else?"

"Just talked to Phil," Opie replied. "In the middle of a tow. Bobby and Chibs are comin' in from the Creek and Maniac's gonna meet us from the other side of town."

"You hear from Clay yet?" Tig anxiously asked.

Jax checked the time on his phone. "Said he was placin' the call right away. Could be talkin' to 'im right now. Let's roll. We need to time this shit down to the dime."

Heading to their bikes, Hap spotted Amanda who had stayed behind. "Why you still here, A? Thought you had to pick up Will."

"I do. Gemma relieved Alyda – she's watching him till four. I…..I couldn't leave until I knew…"

He gave her a quick kiss as everyone fired up their bikes. "We'll get 'er. Don't worry."

Backing away, she neared where Tig was mounting his bike – the two of them exchanging a look which needed no words, but Amanda felt compelled to say what she was thinking. "Bring her back, Tig," she quietly pleaded. "Bring my friend back to me."

Donna. Veronica Pope. Amanda. And the woman who came before all this. If Tig had the opportunity to make up for all his wrongs, this was it. "We will, sweetheart," he told his brother's wife. "_I_ will."

**~A~**

He may be retired and spending his days watching dogs, babies and cheap talk shows, but Clay Morrow hadn't lost his touch one bit. "You don't know me, but your father certainly did."

The voice on the other line was a sure and calm as his. _"Let me guess – Clay Morrow," _Miguel DelGado replied

Clay tried not to sound too impressed. "Inherited your father's perception, I see. His business smarts…..not so much."

"_Backhanded compliments will get you nowhere, Mister Morrow."_

"Wasn't meant to be one," Clay replied. "I shoot nothin' but straight shit. Which is why I'm callin' direct."

"_I'm impressed you found my number_," Miguel said.

"That's not all we found out. A certain MC with no regards for protocol moved in too close to Sons territory – one whose president has been on the other side of phone calls from you."

Silence. It was music to Clay's ears. A clear indication that he fashioned his statement perfectly to shut the other person up. "You still there?"

"_What can I do for you, Mister Morrow?"_

Polite, respectful – it was a good sign to Clay. The young heir to the Albuquerque NF branch obviously picked up a thing or two from his deceased father. It was those qualities he had to play upon. "What you can do, my young friend, is honor the deal I made with your father."

"_My father's dead and you're no longer in charge, Mister Morrow,"_ Miguel replied_. "His deals no longer apply. He left me with the bare bones of a family which I need to rebuild and respect I have to earn."_

"And enlisting a bunch of numbskull bikers is your plan? Amigo, my three year old grandson can give better counsel."

"_That Albuquerque charter caused the death of a lot of NF's_," Miguel half shouted.

"And they lost lives as well," Clay returned. "Not to mention I sent one of my own guys on the road for over a month to hunt down the two SAMCALB members who got away. They were found and dealt with. A small price to pay for your father not ordering retaliation on other Sons. And now you've got some hooligans who think they're one percenter's actin' as your muscle to push the Redwood charter out?"

"_Like I said, Mister Morrow. I have my father's legacy to live up to. And I can't do it unless I establish respect with the family left behind. Those SAMCALB members tried to take over in New Mexico."_

"So you wanna do the same here with us? Redwood's got no beef with the NF – not in Cali, Arizona or New Mexico. You want respect, young Miguel, you start by respecting the word your father gave to those who aren't his enemies." A deep breath before he went for the killshot. "Now, these Gate Keepers – don't know how you found them or how well you know them…."

"_They were willing, able and cheap_," Miguel cut him off.

"And you get what you pay for. You wanna rebuild your family. I get it. Believe me. But do it smart, amigo. And smart ain't hookin' up with a bunch of idiot posers who'll do nothin' but make you look stupid. Which they're doin' right this very moment."

"_What do you mean?"_

"You want Redwood out? Try to draw us into doing somethin' that'll take us outta the picture? They went and snatched some chick – a good friend to the club. Don't know why – maybe they think she'll talk or somethin', but she don't know a damn thing."

Again, the silence on the other end was music to Clay's ears. _"They…..what?"_

"You heard me, Miguel. This girl they got…they do anything to her….."

"_That's….that's not what I wanted."_

"You wanna establish yourself? Earn respect? Then you can start right now by makin' two 'rights'. One by us. One by your father.

**~A~**

_Come back. Somebody. Please. Anyone_.

Daisy's mind screamed out as the small room was beginning to get even smaller. If that was Toby, what was he doing here? Was it just an honest mistake or….were they coming for her?

No. Why would they come for her? No one knew…..Amanda! She was coming to the farm with lunch. Maybe she realized she was missing? Maybe…?

"Knock, knock pretty lady." Sleeper entered the room, trying hard to look like some tough guy. Tough guys didn't kidnap women and use them for their dirty work. Tig had a word for guys like this – douches. Tig, she wondered. What she wouldn't give to see his filthy, freaky ass right now. "Are we leaving?"

"Not till I get an answer from ya. You gonna cooperate with us?"

"I told you I don't know anything."

"And I told you to find it out."

"I can't." she spit out quickly.

Sleeper sidled over, taking her delicate fingers in his hand. "You _can't_? Or you…._won't_?"

She pulled her hand away. "You don't need my help. You already looked into me – why can't you find out your own information? I thought MCs were good at that?"

"And you know this….how?"

"Common sense. But since you took me I'm guessing that's something you lack."

The bottom of Daisy's face found itself in Sleeper's tight grip. "Watch that pretty mouth, bitch. If I wanted to do shit myself, I would. I'm on a tight schedule and ain't got time for games. No one saw you taken. No one knows where you are. And judging from looking_ into_ you, all you have are parents on the other side of the country. No one'll notice you missing – except maybe your boss and your…..ol' lady friend. But not right away."

Daisy's hand grabbed his wrist to lessen the hold on her face, but it was useless. "You…..you said you'd bring me back. You promised."

"I didn't promise shit, sweetheart," he spat with a tightened grip. "Not until you promise me first. Yes or no?"

Daisy went to open her mouth again when a loud banging coming from the main clubhouse jarred him away. "What the fuck!" he seethed, opening the door then turning a warning face to Daisy. "One word. One sound. And I'll make sure you never speak again, understand?"

Only when the door closed and the lock turned did Daisy raise a hand to cup her sore jaw. And finally allowed herself to cry. "_Someone help me, please,_" she whimpered with as little sound as possible.

**~A~**

"It's that stupid pizza kid again." LiLo stood by the window watching the kid outside as he continued to bang on the door.

"This stupid little fucker must have a serious death wish," Sleeper said, pushing LiLo and MoMan out of the way. "And I'm in the mood to grant it." Pulling the door open, he grabbed the kid on the other side, pulled him in and tossed him to the floor. "Say goodbye to your teeth, you little shit….."

"Whoa, whoa, wait," the kid pleaded. "Just deliverin' a message for ya."

Sleeper halted only for a nano-second. "From who?"

The kid thrust his hand out where a cell phone was clutched in it. "Your boss."

A swift, kick to the gut had the kid in a semi-fetal position. "Ain't got no boss, you little asshole," Sleeper said as he drew his foot back for another kick as a voice came through on the cell's speaker.

"_Take the phone, Mister Watson,"_ the voice said, causing Sleeper to halt_. _

Sleeper stood stunned even as LiLo and MoMan backed away to look out the clubhouse windows, though saw nothing. "What the…?"

"_I'm waiting!"_

"I wouldn't keep Mister DelGado waiting if I were you, dude," the kid said.

Grabbing the phone, Sleeper spoke into it. "Who is this?"

"_The boss you won't be having anymore. What the hell do you think you're doing?"_

Sleeper looked as if the blood drained from his face. "DelGado?"

"_And I'm not alone_," Miguel said. "_We're on a three way call."_

"Who?"

"_Nevermind,"_ Miguel cut him off_. "Answer me one thing and don't lie, because I will know. Who are you holding in your clubhouse?"_

His bloodless face suddenly became red hot as Sleeper gulped nothing but air and spit. "Sir…..I…."

"_Answer the question, Mister Watson."_

"She's no one."

"_Then why do you have her_?"

"Thought I could get some intel outta her."

"_What intel could she have if she's 'no one'? Are you contradicting yourself, Mister Watson? Answer me. Is the woman you're holding named Daisy McKay?"_

Another hard swallow hurt his throat before Sleeper answered. "Yes." There was a pause…for at least a minute. "Mister DelGado?"

"_Look out your front window, Mister Watson. Seeing how you're just there with your sergeant and a worthless prospect, you're quite outnumbered. And if you think of escaping out the back, think again. It's safe to assume by what you see outside that this Daisy McKay isn't 'no one'."_

Sleeper dropped his hand, as he turned towards the front window. One by one, Sons appeared from where they were hiding in the wooded background. "Shit," he murmured, running a hand through his hair. _"SHIT! _Go check the back."

Hustling back, MoMan checked the rear of the property then stepped back. "Fuck! There's like…ten, big black dudes." He then went up to Sleeper. "What the fuck, man? What'd you do? Who's this bitch you took?"

"If you only knew," Toby snickered, still on the ground. "Oh, wait," he put the phone to his hear. "Mister DelGado wishes to speak to you again."

Again, Sleeper took the phone and put it to his ear. "I'm here."

"_Then if you wish to continue to live you will back away and let one of them inside to get the woman, out_. _Understood?"_

"Just one?"

"_Just one."_

"What's gonna happen after…?"

"_I said is that understood, Mister Watson?"_ Miguel's voice was stern and hard.

If anyone looked fucked left, right and sideways is was Daniel Watson – aka, Sleeper. "Yeah. Understood."

"_Now give the phone back to the nice young man and open the door."_

Sleeper did as he was told, motioning to LiLo to open the door. Outside, seven armed Sons surrounded the clubhouse – Tig front and center and ready to bust inside as he crossed the threshold with his gun aimed. "Move it. Now!"

Three Gate Keepers with their hands up backed away as Tig jerked his head at Toby to get out. He then looked at Sleeper. "Where is she?"

"I didn't hurt her," Sleeper emphatically said.

Gun gripped with both gloved hands, Tig aimed the barrel right at Sleeper's forehead. _"Where!"_

Sleeper motioned with his eyes. "There. That locked door. She's unharmed." Tig just stared as Sleeper pleaded. "Look, she said she wasn't anyone's ol' lady."

Hap!" Tig called out Redwood's sergeant slowly stepped inside, his own gun cocked and ready.

"Miguel said just one," Sleeper said.

"I ain't turnin' my back without it bein' watched."

With that, Tig lowered his weapon and went to the door, turned the deadbolt and opened it. Sitting in the corner on the floor, her knees pulled up to her face, Daisy looked up with a tear-streaked face which quickly turned to astonishment.

He was never so happy to see the little stiff-ass in his life.

"Tig!" Quickly she scrambled up and crossed the room, throwing herself around him, clinging so tight he felt her all the way inside. "How…how did you….you came…..you found….." She couldn't form one cohesive sentence.

"We got ya, doll," he quietly told her, allowing himself to break one of his own personal rules and give into emotion with no one to witness. Fuck his rules. Fuck every single one of them. They were meaningless compared to the flood of relief soaring through him."You okay?"

She pulled her face away and nodded. "Yeah," her voice fluttered, which was sweet to his ears. "I'm fine."

But the marks on her jaw contradicted that. A leather covered finger lifted her chin before tracing the reddening marks. "What happened?"

"It's nothing, Tig. Just get me out of here….."

"Daisy. What. Happened?" He enunciated each word clearly and slow as not to boil over inside. Action before reaction.

"He….he just….."

"He, who? Sleeper?"

She nodded. "Just….held my face, that's all."

"That's all?"

"Yes."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yes."

That's all he needed to hear.

"Let's go. Van's waitin' outside."

His arm protectively around her, he escorted her out, knowing where her eyes were going. "Don't look at them," he ordered as he handed her off to Hap. He led her out before Tig turned to Sleeper. "C'mere," he calmly said as he roughly grabbed and dragged him. "We need to talk." But before he shoved Sleeper out the door, he turned to LiLo and MoMan. "You even think of goin' for your pieces, bullets are gonna fly front and back. Those black brothers in back – you're in _their_ territory."

Outside Tig went, pulling Sleeper behind before tossing him to the ground like a rag doll. He then cracked his knuckles, hoping his gloves didn't cushion his rings too much. Putting a foot on Sleeper's chest, he reached down and grabbed him by the neck. "She really say she wasn't anyone's ol' lady?"

"She did. I swear."

His fist connecting with Sleeper's face offered the first of several satisfying crunches. "She lied, asshole."


	11. Chapter 11

**Authors Note: This is it. The final chapter and conclusion of the Redemption saga. **

**I've been on this site since 2010 and the support I've received over the years for my stories have warmed and humbled me. All you guys are truly fantastic.**

**I've tackled Hap (in 2 different stories), Juice and Tig. Now I'm moving on to explore the Quinn (thanks to Tellatrix for getting me to consider it) because, quite frankly, I really prefer a character with very little background so I have tons of AU room to play with. I guess I have a thing for big, tattooed mysterious men! Already have 2 chaps written and hope to have 2-3 more before I post the prologue – which hopefully should be next week – maybe sooner. Who knows! Again, the detailed synopsis is up on my profile.**

**As for the end of this story, I tried to plant little 'Easter Eggs' which harken back to stories in the saga. See if you can spot them. The one for Redemption should be pretty obvious :)**

** Again, as always, thank you, thank you, thank you for every kind word of encouragement and hope you find the end satisfying.**

**~/~**

**Chapter 11**

He didn't want her going back to work. Or to the club. Or even her own house. There was only one place he wanted her right now – a place where no one could see them, where they could be alone in the aftermath of what happened and the realization he had just made and that was his place.

Tig had given Toby strict instructions to take Daisy straight to his house – which is exactly where he was headed. His right hand sore from beating Sleeper into oblivion, he winced at the pain as he accelerated, realizing how it must've felt for Clay day in and day out. But it was a temporary pain and one he'd live with given the reason. That two-bit, douchebag, MC president – as laughable as that was – had crossed with the wrong people. Fucked with the wrong club.

And took the wrong woman.

"_She lied,"_ he told Sleeper when told Daisy admitted she wasn't anyone's old lady. He said it. And everyone around him heard. He did the one thing Daisy asked of him two weeks ago before she walked out after he had given her shit about it – and that was acknowledge her.

He did more than that. Being his private piece of ass was one thing. Being his 'girl' was a step above. Being his old lady was the highest honor. And to a woman who had put up with his rules and not give him shit about it, who understood and respected the ways of the club through her friendship with Amanda, who over-dressed, scheduled her wardrobe and sometimes had a disposition as tight as her ass, who made him look past the outer exterior to the man inside – she somehow, unexplainably endeared herself to him. The little stiff-ass did what many croweaters and such had tried for the last decade – and that was get Alexander Trager to call her his own.

Even as he pulled up alongside his rented house and dismounted, Tig still couldn't believe those words left his mouth. But they always say the truth comes out in the heat of the moment, and considering where things stood in his life and the direction the club was taking, he admitted that giving Daisy more than what she truly deserved was something he could offer.

Entering the house, he spotted her – a feeling of pride washing over him. Pride for the way she handled herself. Yeah she was scared and cried a bit, but she didn't break down into theatrics. Didn't freak. Didn't care that asshole hurt her. All she cared about was relief when she saw him come through that door and just wanted to go home. Being the first face she saw was important in him establishing just where they'd go from this moment on.

But walking in and seeing her on the couch with Sasha lovingly in her lap filled him with an odd sense of domesticity. The kind Clay must've felt going home to his Gemma every night. What guys like Jax and Opie needed at the end of the day to close the outside world behind them. What Juice looked forward to with his old lady and her son. And what certainly allowed a man who was an assassin for the club to take a wife and have a child. Maybe Quinn was wrong – maybe it wasn't the water in Charming. Maybe it was the new direction of the Redwood charter, the change in focus and business, the legitimatizing of activities in order to keep everyone whole and on the right side of a cell block. He was tired of fighting the change he bucked against, griped about, gave shit over. Perhaps there was something to the outside lives his brothers led. To what Clay said about not going through later years alone.

And the solution to all that wordlessly stared at him from the couch. Sasha's head lifted upon sensing her master enter, only to give him brief eye contact before resuming her position. Little stiff-ass endeared herself to everyone – even the damn dog.

"Hey."

Hey," she replied right back.

Tugging off his gloves, Tig tossed them along with his keys on the counter and walked over to her, their eyes never leaving each other, the dog's head never leaving her lap. "Little bitch found a replacement," he said.

"They know," Daisy replied. "Dogs know when something isn't right. When you need comfort."

Yeah. Even a damn dog knew better how to give her what she needed than he did. "Sure you're okay?"

She nodded, slowly easing herself out from under Sasha's body. "I'm fine. Really wanted to go home instead."

"You stay here," he quickly replied.

She stopped just short of getting as close as he wanted her to be. "For how long?"

"As long as I say."

Her head dipped and Tig instantly knew she was trying not to let him see her cry. "You came for me."

"Wasn't gonna leave ya there – no matter how much of a pain in the ass you are."

She coughed up a laugh. "Charming – as usual."

"You like me that way."

She paused and took his hands. "Yeah. Guess I kinda do…." She held his hands up and studied the bloody bruising. "Tig? What…..?"

He yanked them again. "It's nothin'."

"You beat up Sleeper, didn't you? "

"Think he didn't deserve it?" he asked her.

She thought a bit. "I suppose," she answered, taking his hands again. "How bad?"

"His mama felt it."

She just stood there, tenderly holding his ravaged hands, playing with the gold rings. "Thank you."

"Yeah, whatever." As unaffected as he tried to sound, he knew she wasn't buying it.

"About…." she sheepishly began, "about what happened two weeks….."

"It's done, Daze. Over. Finito. A'ight?"

The look on her face made his heart sink a bit. She stepped back as he watched her digest what she thought he meant. "Yeah. Sure. Just…..just take me home, okay."

Quick reflexes caused him to grab her wrist as she headed towards the door, spinning her around to face him. "What?"

"I said…..take me home. You got me out. I appreciate it. There's no need for me to be here anymore, now take me…."

He tugged her to him hard enough to knock the words out of her. "I ain't takin' you nowhere. Not after what I just did for you."

"So, what….I owe you?"

"Yeah. You do. Big time." He pulled her in closer, to where every inch of her filled his senses. "And you're gonna pay – startin' right now." And he kissed her – deeply, passionately, a kiss he never thought he was capable of giving a woman, one with care and, if he allowed it, love.

She pulled away reluctantly, looking confused. "What're you doing to me? Stop it, Tig. You said it's over…"

"That ain't what I meant. Forget about what happened, Daze. You got what you wanted."

"Which is?"

"Acknowledgement."

She shook her head. "I never meant you to feel forced into…"

"No one forces me to do shit – should know that by now," he told her. "In front of the entire club, I beat the livin' daylights outta that douche, cuz…"

She swallowed hard as he paused. "Because, why?"

It was no use. Shit went down and the deal was sealed. "Because he took what was mine."

He watched her process what he said, enjoying the shifting looks on her face. "You….you mean that?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. Guess I do."

"Tig…..I never wanted you to change."

"I didn't. Everything around me did." He stepped back to pace a bit. "I couldn't. Before, I just…..couldn't. All I was doin' was fightin' everything around me. To hold onto what wasn't there anymore. Saw my bro's settlin' down, buyin' houses, havin' kids – and it was just a reminder that it ain't what it used to be. That it ain't the club I remembered." He paced further away towards the window, stopping to rest his forearm against the wall and look out. "That it was a reminder of the way it was before I patched. Ridin' down I-5 before I laid down my FXR. Poor bitch ridin' on back slid right into oncoming traffic."

All he heard in the silence that followed was Daisy's pumps walking across his wood floor. "Tig. Oh my God," she whispered. "Was…..was she….?"

"My ol' lady. Just found out she was pregnant too. I really loved that one."

Usually this was where chicks get jealous and ask a lot of questions about the women who came before them. But all he felt was Daisy's arms wrap around him from behind. "I'm sorry," she quietly said. "I'm so, so sorry."

He shrugged off the memory he hadn't spoken of since he was alone in church with Opie. "After that, I got patched, got married, punched out two kids, divorced the gash…..club was all I had. All I wanted to have. Couldn't afford anymore shit in my life."

"But now?" she asked.

_Times change. We change, _he heard Gemma say in his head.

"Think I swing an extra night or two with ya bein' around."

She pulled away from him and huffed. "As I said, charming as usual."

He turned and pulled her to him. "Ain't gonna change all the way, doll-face. You do this…_we _do this, and the rules are even tighter. When a man says a bitch is his – she's his. _All _his. Whatever I say, especially regarding the club, goes. I don't care about what Hap does with Amanda or what Juice does with Eve. Don't compare how they deal with their ol' ladies. You follow _me._ Listen to _me_. Obey _me_."

He noticed the bit lower lip and look of concern on her face, realizing the difference between what they had and what it's going to evolve to . She couldn't concern herself with the relationships of his brothers and their women. Her loyalty and faithfulness would be to him. "Sounds like I have to give up my life."

Tig shook his head. "Ain't so much about givin' up, but understandin' what you're gettin' into. The club is your family now."

"But my parents….."

"What about 'em? Fuck, Daze, you barely talk to them as it is. Call 'em on the phone, email 'em – I don't care. You don't share anything about this life with them."

"I," she began with a falter, "I was thinking of going out for a visit…."

"No."

"No?"

"You heard me. Don't see them goin' outta their way to come see you. And after what just happened, I ain't gonna let ya fly alone across the country. If it's an emergency, one of 'em's sick, then we'll arrange it so you don't have to go alone."

Again, Daisy paused to let what he was saying sink in. "What do I tell them if they ask if I'm…..seeing anyone?"

"The truth."

"That I'm a biker's ol' lady?"

"Better than tellin' 'em you're doin' cable porn," he said, his hand sliding down to that luscious tight ass of hers."

Daisy flattened her body against him as he pulled her in all the way. "You just had to bring that up."

"You kiddin'? I'm gonna have Juice go online and find me that old Hotline movies on CD."

She gasped. "Don't you dare!"

"Why not?"

"You really want to see me…you know…..with other men? On tape?"

He cupped the side of her face with his hand. "What ya did years ago I don't give two shits about. But if you ever think of…._you know_….with other men, remember what I said about how much of a bastard I can be."

It's not as if she had tons of civilian family and friends influencing her. She worked for a club ally, her best friend was the sergeant's old lady, her parents were three thousand miles away and had no siblings. Her only outside connection was a little fairy boy with more estrogen than she had. She would have nowhere to go. No one to turn to. No one to take her in. How absolutely insane that a country-club bred, college educated, prissy little fashionable stiff-ass would come to call a one percent motorcycle club her home?

And him, her old man.

Son of a bitch. Fucking change actually caught up to him and Daisy just happened to be there for the ride.

"I've followed the rules so far," she said. "And you proved you can be a heartless bastard." She wrapped her arms around him. "But today you proved that there is a heart in there."

She kissed him, and he gave right back. Little stiff-assed bitch already sucking him in. "Don't expect flowers and shit," he quickly told her, pulling away. "I don't do jewelry, Hallmark cards or Godiva chocolates."

She shrugged her shoulders, already immune to his hard-ass behavior as she looped her finger inside his shirt collar. "I can think of one piece of jewelry you can do," she said, pulling out the chain with the Marine pendant and dog tag info.

He pulled her hand away. "Sorry, doll. You gave that back."

She looked up at him – wide, hazel eyes trying their best to get their way. He wasn't that ready to give in. Especially for what he had planned – down the line. "But…."

"But nothin'," he said. "Rules of Indian givin'."

And those female wiles which had been present since the dawn of time were turned onto their fullest as she kissed him again, pressing those sweet, little tits of hers against him while hooking one of her long legs up and around his hip. And those fucking wiles were a man's undoing – he knew it and so did she. Typical, conniving bitch.

_His_ conniving bitch.

"Do you think," she began, pulling a pair of moist lips away from his, "that maybe we can…..you know…..bend the rules? Just this time?"

He was about to. Without thinking, he would've ripped that chain off and given it to her. He was so fucking erect that he would've given her anything at that point just to shut her up so he could put something else in her mouth. But he wasn't gonna let her get her way – not after what he just laid down. Oh, he planned to give it back to her – but in a different way. She didn't need to know about it – not right now. Right now something else needed to be done.

"How 'bout," he said, pulling her up and over his shoulder, "I take ya in the bedroom and bend somethin' else?"

She gasped and laughed at the same time as she hung over his back. "Like I said….charming as usual."

**~A~**

**Several Weeks Later**

**September 10, 2013**

The atmosphere in church was much different than it was almost a year to the day later. A night where rank was given up, changed and shifted, an unseeming calmness permeated the atmosphere through the haze of co-mingling cigarette smoke. Tig's was one of them – this time settled in next to the seat which was his under the former chief with quiet acceptance. The change which affected the club was for the better and now all were finally in one, happy accord over it. But the change towards legitimate business didn't completely override the need to remind themselves of that one percent patch they wore.

"What do we think?" Hands flat on the table, Jax scanned his men for their thoughts on the proposition he laid before them. His veep was the first to respond.

"Connectin' ourselves to the La Nuestra Familia has its pros and cons," Bobby replied.

"We play this nice and clean there'll be no 'cons'," Jax replied.

"Dealin' with narcotics?" Juice asked, shaking his head. "Didn't think we wanted to go down that route?"

"Steroids….Oxy…..Proz," Happy cut in. "They ain't legal, but they ain't heroin, coke or meth. And The Bastards are handlin' the leg work."

Chibs leaned back in his chair looking like a man of leisure. "And we just sit back and collect."

"Win, win," Maniac offered up. "Don't have to touch a drop of it _and_ get paid."

Opie looked down the table. "And the Gate Keepers' former clubhouse? That squared up?"

"Miguel took over the lease," Jax answered. "Formed a LLC. Gonna be in the used car parts." A twinkle in Jax eyes dared everyone to connect the dots.

"You mean…..The Horse?" Phil asked. "Bro, you think that's wise crossin' the ventures?"

"As long as everyone involved is fine with it," Jax replied. "Talked to Derrell yesterday – he don't have a problem. The LLC provides the cover for a legit business which'll funnel in the hot parts with the legal ones _and _provide a place to wash the narcotics money through."

It was good to get some good, outlaw, money-making business going.

"All in favor?"

A round of aye's and the deal was done. "One more thing. Kid turns nineteen tomorrow. Wanna vote on it now?"

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "You got it ready?"

Jax patted his lap. "Right here?"

Another round of 'yeahs' was followed by Jax slamming the gavel down to seal the vote. He turned to Hap. "He's in the clubhouse – go get 'im."

Opening the door, Hap stepped outside to where Toby was taking a break. His TM coveralls were already streaked with grease, but that didn't stop him from a kiss and a cuddle from Erin who stopped by to bring him lunch. "Hey…dickhead?"

Toby's head spun with a mouthful of sandwich Erin just fed him. "Uh….me?"

"Good. You recognize your name. Get in here. Now."

The young couple exchanged a nervous look with each other before Hap repeated his order. "What part of _now _don't you understand, kiddo?"

"I'm on it," Toby said, leaving Erin in the dust and scurrying past Hap. Once inside church, the doors closed behind him – leaving him looking like a frog that just got caught in a jar.

"Workin' hard?" Jax asked, eyeing his coveralls.

"Work my ass," Hap joked. "Bein' hand fed by his ol' lady like a pampered little pussy."

Toby nervously laughed. "I was just eatin' lunch…."

"_Shut up!"_ was collectively shouted around the table. The kid nervously gulped and nodded.

"Know why you're here, T-Boy?" Bobby asked.

Toby looked confused, like he didn't know whether to answer or not after having been told to shut up. Wisely, he shook his head."

"Got a birthday tomorrow, laddie," Chibs said, to which Toby nodded.

"One step closer to leavin' your teens," Jax added. "Next year, hello twenties. No more baby shit. Time to grow the fuck up, grow a pair and be a real man."

Everyone watched the poor kid who badly looked like he wanted to defend himself. He had grown up more than most men twice his age in the last two years. He grew more than a pair. A steady diet of Muscle Milk and Maniac's workout routine had given the almost-nineteen year old a strong, sinewy physique and his ability to act dumb and act smart at the same time came in handy when the club had called upon him for two important assignments. The kid watched as Maniac sliced off Dusty's head then risked getting more than just a kick in the gut from Sleeper and the rest of the Gate Keepers. He was as far in as any young hangaround could be and came a long way since he fell off a box truck filled with Nords.

"Suspense killin' ya, kid?" Jax smirked.

He opened his mouth, then closed it when Tig glared at him before wisely shrugging his shoulders.

"Early birthday gift," Jax said before he stood up, revealing what he had laying in his lap. With both hands, Jax held up a pristine leather cut with a _Prospect _patch on the back. "Happy fuckin' birthday, T-Boy," Jax said, tossing it to him. "Congrats."

Toby snagged the leather and stood there dumbfounded as he stared at it. Finally, he had the nerve to utter a word. "Really?"

"No," Tig sassed. "It's all an illusion."

"Put it on," Opie told him.

He did, one arm hole then another until it was one to where his hands just ran up and down the soft leather. "Holy shit."

"I'm guessin' someone's gettin'laid tonight," Manic chuckled.

"_So _fuckin' laid," Toby reiterated.

Happy stood then leaned against the door. "Yeah, well with the perks, come the rules. Prospect period's one year, unless we decide otherwise. Dues are seventy five bucks a month, due on the first."

"You can pay me," Juice said, raising his hand.

Happy continued reading the riot act. "Whatever we tell you to do, you do. Whatever we tell you to say, you say. We say _jump_, you say _how high_ and _can I get ya a steak with that."_

"Think ya didn't 'ave a life before, laddie – ya got even less of one now," Chibs told him.

"That _Family_ ink on your arm," Jax told him. "Ain't just décor. Now you're gonna earn it. And we're gonna make sure you do."

The kid stood there looking at the men who whipped him into the shape he was now in these last two years. He had the look of a young man ready to take anything that was dished out. "I won't let you guys down."

"If you value your nuts, and what's between 'em , you won't," Jax told him before motioning to the door. "Now, go out there and wait. Tell your ol' lady to leave. You belong to us now."

Faces as serious as stone held firm until Toby absorbed his fate for the next year before the doors were closed behind him. Only then did eight men break out into a fit of laughter.

**~A~**

"_Get the damn brakes checked, Daze. Today."_

Daisy still heard Tig's voice in her head as she took an early lunch and headed to T-M. The squeaking in her brakes could be either an accumulation of dust or a sign they needed to be replaced. Pulling into the lot, she drove straight down to the open garage bays, her eyes casually glancing the full row of bikes parked to the left. She quickly counted – eight of them. They were here. All of them. Including Tig.

Her old man.

A month and she still couldn't muster the phrase. With the exception of what she lived through with Amanda, this was still foreign to her. Even with his public acknowledgement of them, she still felt awkward everytime she pulled in here – as if she was invading his privacy or breaking one of the many rules which no longer applied.

Stepping out, she shook the skirt of her navy blue and cream wrap dress as a mechanic came out. The name embroidered on the shirt told her it was one of the prospects. "Hi…Rat," she said. "I need my…."

"…brakes checked? Sure thing. Leave the keys in the ignition. I'll get right to it."

"Oh…okay. Thanks, but…..how'd you…."

"Tig said you'd be down. Wanted ya taken care of asap."

She backed away as he got in, driving her pale blue Jag into one of the bays, until a voice drew her in the opposite directions. "Has its perks, doesn't it?"

Daisy saw Gemma outside the office, a fresh cigarette between her lips and a lighter in her hand. There was no running away from _that woman_ anymore. "Hi Gemma."

All Gemma did was jerk her head, motioning for Daisy to come inside. And being on the bottom of the old lady food chain, Daisy wisely obliged, following right behind the former queen. "What'cha doin' here?"

"Brakes are squeaking. Don't know if it's dust or I need new ones."

"Mmm, hmm," Gemma hummed, taking a long, luxurious drag off her cigarette, blowing the smoke out with her next words. "Guess I've been long overdue saying this."

"What?"

"Welcome."

Daisy knew what she meant, even though Gemma left off the '_to the family'_ part. "Thanks."

"Ever since that day in the delivery room, I knew you were alright. That high-fashion exterior – just a façade for what's truly underneath."

Daisy wasn't sure if that was a backhanded compliment or not, but things were going well and, therefore, was not in the mood to get into a war of the words with Gemma Teller-Morrow. "Thank you, Gemma."

"Go," she said, getting back to her paperwork. "I'm sure your ol' man wants to know you're here."

And being officially dismissed, Daisy walked out, looking to where the picnic table was in view. Her new title didn't erase the feeling of being somewhere she had no right being. In her purse, her cell went off, smiling over the familiar number. "Hey you," she answered.

"_Sweetie did you see Saks online yet?"_ Rafe asked.

"No, but I'm guessing there's some kind of orgasm-inducing sale."

"_There's this Missoni dress that if you do not get, I'm buying myself to wear around the house. You know…when Carlos isn't home. Then again….."_

"Okay, okay, I'll take a look later. Thank God we don't live in New York. We'd be broke."

"_But extremely well dressed. Maybe we should do a road trip one day."_

That sounded wonderful, however the rules, and her world, had changed. "Not sure that'll ever happen."

"_Freaky blue eyes got you under lock and key_?"

"Something like that," she said with a smile. "Look, I'm getting my car fixed. Tig's going out of town next weekend – some memorial for a late member. How about you come over?" We'll knock back a bottle of cabernet, do some online retail therapy then watch a chick flick."

"_Wait, I'm putting it in my phone as we speak…there. It's in stone. I'm so there. Later sweetie."_

Ending the call with a smile, she made her way over, the picnic table getting closer and closer until a familiar face came out. "Oh. Hey, Daisy."

"Wow, look at you," she said to Toby. "Is that new?"

"They just voted me in," Toby replied. "Well, to prospect."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. This is so cool. Now I really gotta change the color of my bike."

"Why?"

"I picked this really gay color called SunGlow. The guys hate it."

Which means Rafe would love it. "So, you're gonna repaint it?"

"Won't take long. Already got the color picked out." He trotted past her shouting, "it's this really cool, sparkly purple called Metallic Eggplant Fusion."

Laughing at the over-excited kid, Daisy turned in time to see the one face that still seemed to cause every nerve stand on end. She wondered if she'd ever get over her best friend's husband having that weird effect on her. "What did that kid just say?"

"Uh…..he's going to repaint his bike some sparkly purple color called Metallic Eggplant Fusion."

Even with nothing behind her, Daisy couldn't back up far enough as Happy's face twisted in a sneer before he took off for the garage. "The fuck he will!"

"What'd you say, doll?"

Daisy wasn't even here for a half hour and already she felt as if she'd been put through the ringer. Seeing Tig put her at ease, as odd as that sounds. "Nothing. He's upset with the color Toby's going to repaint his bike. Strange. Um….getting my brakes checked."

"Yeah. I know." He was confident and cool as he waited inside the doorway. "Forgettin' something?"

One month in and she already knew the signs. Gone was the clever ways of avoiding each other at the club. Now it was mandatory that she acknowledge him when here. She walked over to him, gently placing her hands on his shoulders and giving him a kiss, something that seemed so forbidden considering where they were.

But Tig didn't care for the niceties. He said she was his and made no bones about it as his hand found her ass, causing her to gasp in his mouth. "Tig…."

"What?"

"People are looking."

"You wanted me to acknowledge ya, Daze. Deal with it. How long ya got?"

"Rat got on the car right away. Hopefully it's just the dust, but I think I may have to shell out for new brakes."

"Don't worry about the cost."

"Tig, it's my car. I'll…."

"What did I say?"

It was no use fighting. This world was completely different from the one she came from. Back in Connecticut, the men who belonged to her parent's country club used their wealth as their power. Here, it was all about taking care of what was yours instead of showing off. They were still in the learning stages – she never having been in this position and he having been out of it for a while. "Not to worry."

"Good, then don't. Oh, and don't make any plans tonight. Goin' to Hap and Amanda's."

Her face lit up at the prospect of seeing her friend and God-son, though it was strange for Tig to be making the plans. "Yeah. What for?"

His thumb reached inside his shirt collar and hooked under his chain. "You said you wanted this back?"

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna get it – tonight."

"But…why do we have to go to…." She was cut off with a kiss, deep, complete with a diving tongue which made her wish they weren't in public. Even after all this time she couldn't believe this man turned her into a woman she tried so hard not to be. And she returned the favor right back to him.

"Don't ask questions, doll," he said, pulling away as he noticed Rat waving them down from the garage. "Go. Your car's ready."

**~A~**

They say all things come full circle – that eventually events of your past, even ones you wish you could take back – come around and find themselves in the center of your lives. When Daisy walked through the front door of Amanda's house later that evening, little did she know, one of those moments were about to bite her in the ass.

"Hey," Hap greeted them.

"Hey. All set?"

"Whenever you're ready." He then looked at Daisy. "Amanda's in the kitchen with the baby."

Tig kissed her temple. "Go say hi, then we gotta get started."

Entering the kitchen, Daisy saw her friend sitting at the table, a bottle firmly placed in her son's mouth. "You have the same quizzical look I did," Amanda told her.

"You know?" Daisy asked.

Amanda nodded. "Know what you're getting?"

Daisy shook her head. "No. He won't tell me."

"Hap didn't tell me either. Until the last minute. Just showed me a sketch then told me to take my top off and lay down before I could protest." She angled her body so that the back of her left shoulder faced Daisy. "An hour or so later, I wound up with this."

Daisy's eyes looked at what she still thought was a hideous tattoo on Amanda's left shoulder, as that moment she wished she could take back came to mind. "I remember that night, after the Charming Gardens hearing, when I saw you by your car, saw your ink and…." Her voice faltered with shame.

"…..called me trash?" Amanda filled in.

"Now we're friends," Daisy continued. "Now we can be trash together."

"A little old lady advice?"

"Sure?"

"We are _not _trash. No matter what they look like on the outside, not matter how unconventional they are, what rules they lay down or how opposite they are from where we _came _from, these men – not just your old man – all of the, would take a bullet for you. You're in a completely different world now, Daisy. What's about to happen to you tonight, no two carat diamond will ever live up to."

Daisy couldn't reply. Didn't want to. It wasn't something which needed one – just something she needed to listen to.

"Grab a glass of wine," Amanda told her. "You're gonna need it."

Pouring a deep, claret burgundy, Daisy swirled it in the glass and took a nice, long sip as Tig came in. "C'mon, doll. Let's go."

She nodded, following Tig out before turning to Amanda. "I'll see you after?"

"You will."

~A~

That night in bed, Daisy felt a completely different person. A man sleeping to her right and a dog situated at the foot, she carefully slid her left leg in as she quietly sat up, looking down at the ink inside her ankle, running almost halfway up her calf covered in a thin piece of film. Badly she wanted to peel it off, but Tig was firm – not until the morning.

She said she wanted his chain back and he delivered. But instead of the real thing, Hap did a sweet replication of it, inking the chain in a swirling curve inside her lower, left leg. That's the spot Tig wanted it – so everytime she crossed those long stems left over right, it be right there. For all to see. No questions. The Marine tags enveloped in crow's wings dangled by her ankle. She had to admit, she liked it – a lot, glad that she didn't wind up with some hideous skull like Amanda.

"Don't touch it, Daze."

How the heck did he know what she was doing? He was facing away from her. "What, do you have eyes in the back of your head?"

"No. I'm looking down and seein' the dog starin' right at ya. Must be doin' somethin' you shouldn't."

"I'm just…..looking."

"How 'bout just…..sleeping."

"I can't. I'm too wired. I never…I never thought….." What did she think? That something so permanent could be so…..permanent.

He rolled over, pulling her down next to him. "I don't do acknowledgement half ass. That," he pointed to her ink, "binds ya to me. It ain't no butterfly or even that stupid infinity symbol on your back. This _means _something."

And that something was the 'long haul'. Fortunately, she had a good friend who had helped prepare her and a family which was the complete opposite of the blood one she left behind on the east coast. And a man she had loathed since the first day she saw him was now the center of her life – and her heart. Whether he'd ever profess his love to her or not didn't matter. He did it his own way.

He bent the rules for her.


End file.
